,/INDROS 


I  EPHESUS 


JLE.COPUS 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OH 
CALIFORNIA 

DIEGO 


ANDROS  OF  EPHESUS 

A   Tale  of  Early  Christianity 


BY  THE 
REV.  J.  E.  COPUS,  S.  J. 


Author  of 

The  Son  of  Siro,  A  Story  of  Lazarus,"  "Harry  Russell," 

"St.  Cuthbert's,"" Shadows  Lifted,"   "Tom 

Losely:  Boy,"  "The  Mating  of 

Mart  lake,"  "As  Gold 

in  the  Furnace  >" 

Etc.,  Etc. 


THE  M.  H.  WILTZIUS  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 

MILWAUKEE        NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1910. 

BY 

THE  M.  H.  WILTZIUS  COMPANY 


To 

THE  MOST  REVEREND 
JAMES   EDWARD  QUIGLEY,  D.  D. 

ARCHBISHOP  OF  CHICAGO, 

WHOSE  APPROBATION  HAS  EVER  BEEN  AN 

INSPIRATION,    THIS  VOLUME  is 

RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR 


AMONG  DIANA'S  FOLK  11 

of  Ephesus,  he  felt  a  glow  of  national  pride 
that  the  place  of  his  birth  possessed  one  of 
the  wonders  of  the  world. 

Had  one  been  near  him  and  watched  his 
face  closely,  however,  on  this  particular 
afternoon,  there  might  have  been  discovered 
indications  of  trouble,  as  shown  in  the  sad- 
ness of  the  eyes  and  in  the  lines  about  the 
mouth.  Strange  and  disquieting  thoughts 
had  recently  entered  the  mind  of  Andros, 
the  Ephesian,  concerning  the  worship  of 
Diana — thoughts  that  he  could  not  under- 
stand and  difficulties  which  he  was  unable 
to  solve. 

So  general  was  the  cultus  of  the  great 
goddess  that  he  was  aware  that  he  could  not 
with  safety  confide  his  difficulties  even  to 
his  nearest  friend,  yet  they  were  real  and 
tangible  to  him,  and  startling  because  of 
their  newness  and  for  the  persistency  with 
which  they  appeared  to  demand  considera- 
tion. He  was  much  disquieted.  He  re- 
mained stationary  for  a  long  time,  his  gaze 
fixed  upon  the  temple,  while  his  active  mind 
was  busy  with  the  problems  that  had  pre- 
sented themselves. 

At  last  he  realized  that  the  sun  was  about 
to  drop  behind  the  western  clouds.  Arous- 
ing himself  from  his  revery  with  an  impa- 
tient shrug  of  the  shoulders,  he  turned  and 
walked  down  the  narrow  path  of  the  south- 
ern slope  of  Mount  Coressus  until  he  came 
to  the  substantial  farmhouse  of  one  of  his 


12         AMONG  DIANA'S  FOLK 

tenants.  He  was  surprised  and  not  un- 
pleased  to  find  that  several  of  the  neighbor- 
ing vine-growers  had  gathered  under  the 
modest  portico  to  spend  the  evening  in  rest 
and  conversation  and  in  the  enjoyment  of 
each  other's  company.  He  welcomed  the 
gathering  as  a  distraction  from  his  own  too 
exacting  thoughts. 

"Hail,  friend!  may  the  great  goddess  be 
kind  to  all,"  said  Andros,  as  he  approached. 

"Thou  art  kind,  good  Andros;  may  the 
great  Diana  prosper  thy  vines,  for  thy  rent 
will  be  in  proportion  to  their  yield,"  an- 
swered a  man  about  fifty  years  of  age.  He 
was  florid  of  face  and  appeared  to  be  a  good 
patron  of  his  own  wine  vats. 

When  Andros  had  saluted  all  his  friends 
and  had  taken  his  seat  among  them,  the 
conversation  which  his  coming  had  inter- 
rupted was  resumed. 

"Hast  heard  the  news,  friend  Andros?" 
inquired  the  red-faced  speaker. 

"That  there  will  be  no  Artemision  festivi- 
ties next  spring?"  said  Andros  facetiously. 

Every  one  knew  that  the  cessation  of  the 
games  and  procession  in  honor  of  Diana  and 
the  glory  of  Ephesus  was  among  the  last  of 
improbabilities.  All  laughed  at  the  sally  of 
humor. 

"No,  good  Callinus,"  continued  Andros, 
"I  have  heard  nought.  Keep  me  not  in 
suspense.  Is  the  divine  emperor  dead?" 

"Not  far  from  the    southern    fountain," 


AMONG  DIANA'S  FOLK          13 

answered  the  one  addressed,  "down  on  the 
level  land  outside  the  city  wall,  have  come 
to  dwell  a  strange  company  of  men  and 
women.  Thou  dost  remember  that  since  old 
Pelopidas  lost  his  house  and  vine  lands  be- 
cause of  his  too  great  love  for  the  dice-box, 
and  for  being  too  good  a  customer  at  the 
taverns  he  supplied  with  wine — thou  dost 
remember  that  his  house  has  been  unoc- 
cupied since  that  time?" 

"I  am  aware  that  the  house  has  been 
empty  for  several  months,"  said  Andros. 

"A  company  of  men  and  women  have 
come  to  live  there.  They  are  mysterious 
beings,  for  they  go  to  none  of  the  temples, 
and  are  never  seen  in  the  courts  or  grove 
of  Diana." 

"That  is  not  so  wonderful,"  remarked 
Andros.  "Remember,  friend,  that  there  are 
eighteen  other  temples  erected  to  the  differ- 
ent gods  within  the  walls  of  Ephesus.  It 
may  be  they  worship  in  one  of  these." 

"Not  so,"  said  Aratus,  another  of  the  com- 
pany, who  appeared  to  bear  no  particular 
good-will  towards  Andros ;  "not  so,  for  they 
go  to  none  of  these  temples.  I  have  watched 
them  and  know.  Your  surmise  is  not 
correct." 

"Perhaps  you  can  inform  us  who  they  are 
and  what  they  are  doing,"  said  Andros,  just 
a  little  nettled. 

"Twice  have  I  passed  their  house,"  con- 
tinued Aratus,  "and  heard  singing.  I  en- 


14         AMONG  DIANA'S  FOLK 

deavored  to  catch  the  words,  but  could  not 
make  much  of  them.  I  am  sure  they  cannot 
be  in  honor  of  Diana." 

"Thou  art  probably  correct/'  said  Andros; 
"the  worship  of  Diana  does  not  consist  in 
singing,  as  thou  knowest,  but  rather  in 
dancing  and  in  processions." 

"That  is  true,"  interrupted  Callinus. 
"Nothing  in  the  world  equals  our  ritual  pro- 
cessions. Wonderful  is  Diana  of  Ephesus, 
the  mother  of  the  gods !"  , 

"They  are  a  quiet  company,"  continued 
Aratus,  "and  come  from  no  one  knows 
where.  The  women  are  introducing  a 
strange  custom  here,  for  they  generally  go 
veiled." 

"Perhaps  they  are  Jews,"  suggested  one 
of  the  company.  "Thou  knowest  there  are 
many  wealthy  Jews  of  Syria  living  at  Ephe- 
sus. It  may  be  that  these  are  some  less 
wealthy  people  of  the  same  nation." 

"The  men  are  quiet  and  unassuming," 
continued  Aratus,  "and  appear  to  be  refined 
and  sociable.  They  talk  intelligently  about 
vine-growing  and  appear  to  possess  skill  in 
wine-making.  I  saw  one  man  with  a  large 
basket  today,  and  he  was  selecting  the 
choicest  clusters  in  the  vineyard.  When 
urged  to  tell  why  he  did  this,  he  changed  the 
subject  of  our  conversation — gracefully 
enough  I  grant — and  spoke  about  the  fer- 
tility of  the  soil  and  the  beauty  of  the 
merges." 


AMONG  DIANA'S   FOLK         15 

"Are  the  women  beautiful?"  enquired 
Callinus.  "If  they  are,  and  the  men  are  as 
sociable  as  Aratus  declares,  'twould  be 
worth  while  visiting  them,  and  then  we 
could  learn  more  about  them." 

The  project  of  visiting  the  new  settlers 
in  the  neighborhood  appeared  to  meet  with 
general  approval,  and  it  was  decided  that  a 
visit  should  soon  be  made.  They  had  for- 
gotten that  the  grape  harvest  was  to  begin 
on  the  following  day.  The  visit  was  long 
delayed,  and  before  the  wine  pressing  was 
finished  was  forgotten  by  most  of  those  who 
had  agreed  to  make  it. 


CHAPTER  II 
IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT 

After  the  neighbors  had  departed  from 
the  portico,  Andros  sat  a  long  time  in  the 
moonlight  pondering  the  thoughts  that  had 
lately  come  to  him.  He  was  of  a  more 
thoughtful  disposition  than  most  of  his 
countrymen.  Greek  by  descent,  he  had  in- 
herited the  keenness  of  intellect  of  that  race, 
and  he  wanted  to  see  the  reason  of  things. 
Traditional  beliefs  did  not  appeal  to  him 
merely  because  they  had  been  handed  down 
to  him  by  his  forefathers. 

At  this  time  there  was  a  restlessness  in 
his  soul,  the  cause  of  which  he  could  ill  de- 
fine. Questions  had  arisen  which  he  could 
not  solve.  He  would  have  repudiated  with 
indignant  scorn  any  thought  of  infidelity  to 
the  goddess  of  his  birthplace.  To  him 
Diana  was  supreme,  and  the  influence  of  her 
cultus  entered  into  his  life  in  a  larger  way 
than  was  customary  with  most  young  men 
of  his  time. 

Splendidly  muscular  and  in  good  physical 
condition,  it  was  impossible  to  attribute  his 
unsatisfactory  mental  state  to  some  ap- 
proaching sickness.  He  laughed  at  this 
thought  when  he  looked  at  the  knots  of 

16 


IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT        17 

muscles  on  his  bare  arms,  or  felt  them  work- 
ing across  his  shoulders  as  he  exercised  him- 
self. There  was  nothing  wrong  with  his 
nerves,  but  there  was  an  uneasiness  of  mind 
— a  something  within  him  which  craved  sat- 
isfaction— and  he  knew  not  how  or  where 
to  get  the  relief  he  sought. 

Andros,  at  the  present  time,  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  denning  to  himself  the  cause  of 
his  uneasiness.  Being  in  perfect  health,  and 
living  much  in  the  open  air,  he  was  not  one 
given  to  morbid  introspection,  yet  he  was 
aware  that  the  gratification  of  mere  animal 
excitement  of  the  great  spectacles,  or  the 
wild  music  of  the  ritual  processions,  or  the 
athletic  games  with  which  the  feasts  of 
Diana  were  celebrated,  were  not  sufficient, 
or  of  a  kind  to  satisfy  the  unrest  in  his  soul. 
For  a  time  he  had  mounted  to  a  higher  intel- 
lectual plane  and  had  taken  pleasure  in 
poetry,  and  in  the  philosophical  discussions 
which  were  held  in  the  amphitheatre  during 
the  Artemision  festival,  and  even  at  other 
times  of  the  year.  But  all  these  had  at 
length  palled,  and  there  remained  the  unrest 
for  which  he  could  give  no  account. 

He  was  sufficiently  keen  of  mind  to  realize 
that  the  present  method  of  worshipping  the 
goddess,  with  all  its  exuberance  and  orgi- 
astic tendencies  and  practices,  was,  and  of 
necessity  must  be,  a  degeneration  from  what 
he  conceived  must  have  been  the  simplicity 
of  her  original  worship.  He  could  not 


18        IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT 

bring  himself  to  believe  that  unbridled  in- 
temperance did  honor  to  a  deity,  and  yet  he 
saw  this  was  the  common  practice  among 
the  votaries  of  Diana  in  Ephesus  and 
throughout  Lydia.  The  instincts  of  his  nat- 
urally upright  mind  revolted  at  the  ex- 
cesses of  the  times.  After  a  long  series  of 
excogitations  he  became  convinced  that 
these  practices,  which  had  grown  up  around 
the  worship  of  Diana  as  the  mother  of  all 
living,  or  as  Hecate,  the  ruler  of  hell,  or  as 
Luna,  the  ever-changeable  one,  were  ex- 
cesses and  not  originally  intended  or  prac- 
ticed. His  naturally  correct  instinct  re- 
belled, and  yet  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  seek 
a  better  way  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  his 
soul,  or  to  change  the  present  method  of 
his  worship. 

He  knew  full  well  what  his  fate  would  be 
were  he  bold  enough  to  deny  the  divinity  of 
the  Ephesian  goddess.  He  had  no  intention 
of  doing  this.  He  knew  that  at  the  next 
festival  of  Diana  he  would  shout  as  loud  as 
the  rest,  "Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians." 
He  took  a  natural  pride  in  her  worship,  yet 
of  late  there  seemed  to  be  something  in  this 
very  worship  that  repelled  him. 

Many  customs  were  distasteful  to  him. 
Among  others,  he  realized  that  that  of  sanc- 
tuary had  grown  into  a  national  abuse.  He 
saw  that  this  custom  drew  together  to 
Ephesus  all  the  worst  criminals  even  from 
as  far  away  as  Pontus  and  Syria  and  Egypt, 


IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT         19 

from  Macedonia  and  far-off  Gaul.  He  was 
aware  that  it  was  a  custom  in  all  the  great 
temples  throughout  the  world,  but,  looking 
at  the  abuse  of  the  privilege  as  he  saw  it  in 
his  own  city,  and  being  impressed  with  the 
dark  side  of  the  picture  only,  he  failed  to 
see  its  value. 

There  were  many  other  things  that  puz- 
zled him.  Why  were  such  immoral  men  as 
the  priests  of  Diana  were  known  to  be 
chosen  or  allowed  to  minister  at  her  altars? 
It  puzzled  him  that  the  worship  of  the  god- 
dess always  took  the  form  of  spectacles  or 
games,  and  was  always  followed  by  debauch- 
ery rather  than  supplication.  How  could  the 
daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Latona  be  pleased 
with  such  a  perverted  worship? 

"At  all  events,"  he  mused,  alone  in  the 
beautiful  moonlight,  "the  great  Diana  re- 
ceives true  worship,  for  are  not  flowers, 
fruits  and  even  animals  sacrificed  to  her? 
Yes,  we  have  the  true  notion  of  worship,  for 
something  is  destroyed  in  sacrifice  to  show 
the  deity's  supreme  dominion.  But  oh!  is 
Diana  a  real  being  after  all?  Is  she  not 
merely  an  abstraction,  some  broken  frag- 
ment of  a  thought,  as  it  were,  rendered  con- 
crete in  her  images  and  in  her  temples,  to 
hold  the  vulgar  mind?  Supposing  she  be 
merely  that  and  nothing  more — an  abstract 
idea — is  it  worthy  of  the  mind  of  man  to  give 
worship  and  adoration  to  something  so  in- 
tangible? There  must  be  something  greater 


20        IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT 

and  more  substantial  behind  all  this.  Oh,  if 
I  could  only  get  at  the  truth!  Would  that 
some  great  teacher  would  arise  to  purge 
the  worship  of  the  huntress  goddess  of  the 
accretions  of  the  ages!  Would  that  some 
great  philosopher  would  come  and  restore 
our  pristine  worship,  and  with  it  our  pristine 
virtues!  There  must  be  a  truer,  higher  wor- 
ship than  that  which  we  see  all  around  us. 
Would  that  I  could  fathom  the  mystery!" 

These  and  similar  thoughts  passed  through 
the  young  man's  mind,  injecting  into  it  a 
jumble  of  ideas  which  he  was  unable  to  ex- 
plain or  set  in  order. 

Andros  was  not  morbid.  His  physical 
condition  was  too  excellent  for  him  to  suffer 
this  disease  of  weaklings.  Yet  at  times  he 
was  sorely  perplexed  at  life's  puzzles,  al- 
though he  enjoyed  the  good  things  of  the 
world  with  the  zest  of  youth.  He  was  not 
yet  thirty  years  old.  He  had  inherited  his 
father's  not  inconsiderable  fortune,  consist- 
ing of  the  large  vineyard  on  the  southern 
slope  of  Coressus,  two  or  three  large  houses 
within  the  city  walls  and  several  sailing  ves- 
sels which  carried  on  a  lucrative  trade  be- 
tween Ephesus  and  the  islands  of  the  Aegean 
sea.  Some  of  the  larger  vessels  sailed  to  At- 
talia  in  Pampylia,  Paphos  in  Cyprus,  Caesa- 
rea,  and  even  to  Alexandria.  He  also  held 
the  privilege,  inherited  from  his  father  and 
confirmed  to  him  by  the  Chancellor  of  the 
city,  of  taking  fish  from  the  great  Silenusian 


IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT        21 

lakes  in  the  north.  These  fish  were  sold  daily 
in  the  agora  venalis  at  a  great  profit,  for  the 
Ephesians  were  a  luxury-loving  people,  and 
the  product  of  these  fresh-water  lakes  was 
regarded  as  a  great  delicacy. 

The  father  of  Andros  had  left  these  vari- 
ous sources  of  wealth  in  the  hands  of  good 
stewards.  The  young  man,  therefore,  had 
little  to  do  but  to  receive  the  profits  and  daily 
add  gold  to  his  coffers.  Of  a  naturally  up- 
right character,  Andros  had  not  let  his  new- 
ly acquired  wealth  turn  his  head.  He  con- 
tinued to  live  a  clean  life  and  was  much  out- 
of-doors,  and  was  a  fair  specimen  of  stalwart 
manhood. 

He  was  not  tall — the  Ephesians  were  in 
general  of  shorter  stature  than  their  Roman 
subjugators.  He  was  about  five  feet  nine 
inches  in  height.  He  ordinarily  wore  the 
prevailing  costume  of  the  people  of  Asia  Mi- 
nor— a  vest  with  long  tight  sleeves  reaching 
to  the  wrists,  long  pantaloons  descending  to 
the  ankles  and  ornamented  with  a  colored 
zigzag  pattern.  Over  the  vest  was  a  wide 
sleeveless  tunic,  clasped  on  the  shoulder  and 
confined  at  the  waist  by  a  girdle,  and  when 
long  gathered  up  by  another  girdle  lower 
down.  His  hair,  black  as  night,  was  rather 
long  and  fell  nearly  to  his  shoulders  from  be- 
neath the  ordinary  Phrygian  cap,  made  of 
soft  white  wool  and  rising  to  a  point  which 
projected  forward. 

The  eyes  of  Andros  were  his  prominent 


22        IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT 

feature.  They  were  large  and  lustrous  and 
of  a  dark  blue.  A  high,  broad,  exceedingly 
white  forehead  appeared  whiter  in  contrast 
with  the  heavy,  straight  black  eyebrows 
which  almost  touched  in  the  middle.  The 
nose  was  straight  and  purely  Grecian,  in- 
dicating his  Hellenic  descent.  The  color  of 
health  shone  on  his  cheek-bones  and  on  his 
lips,  which  were  firm.  The  jaw  was  large 
and  its  contour  denoted  strong  determina- 
tion. The  whole  countenance  was  that  of  a 
thoughtful  man.  There  was  something 
masterful  in  all  his  actions.;  in  the  decision  of 
his  tones,  .and  in  the  sturdy  swing  of  limbs 
as  he  walked.  One  would  designate  him  a 
man  whom  it  would  be  dangerous  to  antag- 
onize, yet  who  could  and  would  be  a  lov- 
ing friend. 

The  evening  when  the  story  opens  Andros 
sat  long  under  the  portico  of  his  tenant's  villa 
in  the  vineyard,  trying  to  puzzle  out  the 
questions  which  had  tortured  him  more  per- 
sistently than  ever  of  late. 

"Ah!  I  know  what  I  will  do,"  he  said  to 
himself  at  the  end  of  his  cogitations.  "To- 
morrow I  will  go  out  beyond  the  stadium 
and  I  will  talk  to  Lydda.  She  is  more 
clever  than  I.  Perhaps  she  will  be  able  to 
explain  some  of  the  difficulties  that  beset  me. 
Oh !  Lydda !  Lydda !"  he  exclaimed  passion- 
ately, "if  thou  but  knew  of  the  flames  burn- 
ing in  my  heart  for  thee !  How  long  must  I 
wait  thy  timid  bashfulness  before  I  dare  ask 


IN  THE  GRIP  OF  DOUBT       23 

thee  to  be  mine!  O  great  Artemis!  cure  a 
lover's  pangs !  At  least  to-morrow  I  go  not 
as  a  lover,  but  as  a  searcher  after  knowl- 
edge." 


CHAPTER  III 
A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS 

The  marble  villa  of  Mellanides  shone  with 
such  brilliancy  in  the  morning  sun  as  to  be 
almost  blinding.  Built  on  an  eminence  and 
surrounded  on  three  sides  by  the  windings 
of  the  river  Caystrus,  near  to  the  sacred  and 
luxuriant  grove  of  Diana,  it  was  regarded  as 
the  most  elegant  residence  in  the  city  of 
Ephesus.  It  was  situated  over  a  mile  away 
from  the  northern  city  gate  and  was  some 
distance  from  the  main  travelled  road  to  Sar- 
dis  and  Smyrna.  It  was  secluded  and  was 
rarely  visited  by  travellers  passing  through 
Ephesus,  although  the  citizens  considered  it 
as  one  of  their  glories.  Along  the  road  lead- 
ing to  it,  which  was  in  a  way  an  imitation  of 
the  Roman  Via  Appia,  there  were  many 
other  mansions,  but  none  approached  that  of 
Mellanides  in  stateliness  or  in  the  magnifi- 
cence of  its  furnishings. 

Nearly  every  known  country  in  the  world 
had  been  laid  under  contribution  to  gratify 
the  taste  or  the  luxury  of  the  family  whose 
proud  possession  it  was.  The  rarest  of  pic- 
tures, Greek  statuary,  rugs,  carpets  and 
choicest  tapestries  were  found  there  in  pro- 
fusion. The  friends  of  Mellanides — and  he 

24 


A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS  25 

had  many,  for  in  his  prime  he  had  been  an 
elaborate  entertainer — had  prophesied  to 
him  that  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  when 
the  priests  and  priestesses  would  take  pos- 
session of  the  house  and  convert  it  into  a 
temple  in  honor  of  Diana  Luna,  which  was 
about  the  only  title  under  which  the  goddess 
had  no  temple  dedicated  to  her  in  Ephesus. 

Old  Mellanides  was  choleric  when  the  sub- 
ject was  mentioned.  He  often  took  the  re- 
marks of  his  friends  more  seriously  than 
they  intended  he  should.  He  was  deter- 
mined never  to  give  up  his  house.  When  the 
subject  was  mentioned  in  his  hearing  he 
would  wind  his  toga  closely  around  his  body, 
walk  the  length  of  the  peristyle  two  or  three 
times,  as  if  working  his  anger  up  to  the  point 
of  speech,  and  begin: 

"Never,  never,  friends!  I  am  a  faithful 
worshipper  of  the  chaste  huntress,  as  all 
good  Ephesians  should  be,  but  they  shall 
never  take  my  villa  from  me.  When  I  die, 
it  goes  intact  to  my  Lydda.  I  have  not 
served  the  emperor  for  nought,  nor  did  my 
father  serve  him  in  his  legions  to  be  forgot- 
ten. Let  the  chief  priestess  or  any  of  those 
rascally  priests  set  foot  here,  and  I  will  on 
the  instant  be  off  to  Rome!  No,  friends, 
they  dare  not  molest  the  emperor's  friend." 

"And  while  you  are  gone  they  will  take 
possession,  and  spirit  away  your  daughter," 
some  one  would  remark,  more  for  the  sake 
of  teasing  than  belief  in  his  own  words. 


26          A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS 

"Woe  betide  them  should  they  attempt 
the  one  or  the  other.  The  imperial  ruler  of 
the  world  would  send  a  legion  for  my  safety 
if  necessary.  I  tell  thee,  I  am  near  the 
throne.  I  am  a  friend  of  the  emperor." 

Whether  the  facts  were  as  Mellanides 
stated,  or  his  words  were  the  product  of  an 
overfond  and  loyal  imagination,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  decide.  They  had  the  effect,  how- 
ever, of  keeping  the  old  soldier  happy. 

On  the  morning  following  the  long  ex- 
cogitation of  Andros,  Lydda  sat  in  the  shade 
of  the  marble  pillars  of  the  peristyle  of  her 
father's  villa.  She  was  surrounded  by  a 
number  of  serving  maids,  whose  duty  it  was 
to  attend  to  her  slightest  wish.  Seated  on 
a  marble  bench  piled  high  with  cushions  and 
over  the  back  of  which  she  had  thrown  her 
crimson  peplum,  or  cloak,  she  held  in  her 
hands  a  large  bunch  of  red  roses  which  con- 
trasted strongly  with  her  simple  white  Gre- 
cian costume.  Roses  lay  scattered  around 
her  feet,  and  on  the  steps  that  led  down  to 
the  impluvium,  or  large  tank  of  water  in  the 
open  court  of  the  house.  Some  red  blossoms 
had  fallen  into  the  water  and  lay  floating 
like  great  drops  of  blood  on  the  quiet  sur- 
face. Two  white  swans  moved  lazily  about 
in  the  water.  On  the  farther  low  wall  of  the 
impluvium  were  two  metallic-hued  peacocks, 
one  of  which  had  spread  his  gorgeous  tail 
feathers  as  if  for  the  delectation  of  his  mis- 
tress. In  the  centre  of  the  impluvium  was 


A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS  27 

a  marble  group  representing  Aphrodite  ris- 
ing from  the  sea,  attended  by  nymphs. 

In  strong  contrast  to  the  marble  walls  and 
pillars  were,  here  and  there,  ebony  hued  Nu- 
bian slaves,  whose  brass  bands  on  the  upper 
arm  and  on  the  wrist  shone  and  glistened  in 
the  sun.  The  whiteness  of  the  low  parapet 
around  the  body  of  water  was  relieved  by 
richly  wrought  brass  vases  filled  with  cut 
flowers  of  brilliant  colors  and  delicate  per- 
fume, or  with  boxes  of  rare  plants. 

Ever  and  anon,  in  the  pursuit  of  the  busi- 
ness of  his  office,  would  appear  from  the 
atrium  or  from  one  or  other  of  the  domestic 
offices,  the  steward  of  the  palace,  clad  in  a 
long  robe  of  many  gorgeous  colors  and  bear- 
ing a  wand.  Although  he  did  not  approach 
Lydda,  he  kept  himself  well  within  sight  and 
call  in  case  he  should  be  required  for  any  ser- 
vice by  the  mistress  of  the  household. 

The  scene  was  one  of  refined  beauty  in  its 
wealth  of  color  contrasts.  A  gentle  breeze 
suddenly  stirred  the  waters  of  the  impluvium 
and  wafted  the  roses  here  and  there,  making 
little  moving  islands  of  crimson. 

Lydda  remained  seated  on  the  marble 
bench  while  her  handmaidens,  in  pink,  and 
pale  blue,  and  light  orange  robes,  busied 
themselves  with  making  festoons.  They  un- 
consciously grouped  themselves  in  artistic 
poses  about  her.  Suddenly  the  steward 
made  a  hurried  entrance  from  the  atrium 


28          A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS 

and  approached  his  mistress  as  if  he  would 
speak. 

"What  is  it,  Cassus?" 

"Most  gracious  lady,"  said  the  steward, 
"there  has  just  arrived  from  beyond  Mount 
Coressus  the  young  Andros,  who  craves  to 
be  admitted  to  thy  presence." 

"Admit  him." 

The  steward  bowed  low  and  retired.  Wo- 
manlike, the  mistress  of  the  house  instinc- 
tively put  her  hands  to  her  hair  to  satisfy 
herself  that  the  Grecian  coil  was  in  perfect 
condition.  One  of  the  handmaids  threw  a 
light,  gauzy  peplum  of  delicate  lavender 
color  around  her  shoulders. 

Lydda  arose  when  Andros  appeared  at  the 
entrance  of  the  open  court. 

"Welcome,  my  friend.  Thou  art  early 
abroad,"  she  said,  as  she  stretched  forth  her 
long  slender  arm.  Andros  touched  the  taper- 
ing ringers  to  his  lips.  Had  she  been  a  god- 
dess he  could  not  have  shown  her  more  rev- 
erence. He  was  sure  of  just  the  welcome 
he  had  received — that  of  a  friend,  but 
nothing  more.  He  would  have  given  half 
his  wealth  to  have  been  able  to  notice  a  little 
embarrassment  in  her,  a  little  twitching  of 
the  lips,  or  fluttering  of  the  eyelids,  or  a 
slightly  heightened  color.  No  sign  of  an 
emotional  movement  was  visible.  He  sighed, 
and  more  vehemently  than  he  was  aware  of. 

"Art  in  trouble,  Andros?"  asked  Lydda, 
as  she  resumed  her  seat  on  the  cushioned 


A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS  29 

bench,  "Come,  sit  beside  me,  and  it  may  hap- 
pen that  I  may  be  of  assistance.  Come." 

They  sat  together.  At  a  given  signal  from 
their  mistress  the  attendants  withdrew  to 
the  corners  of  the  open  court,  where  they 
could  easily  be  beckoned  to  should  their 
services  be  required,  but  could  not  hear  what 
was  spoken. 

"Now,  good  friend,  tell  me  thy  trouble," 
said  Lydda. 

"'Tis  naught,  fair  lady,  but  what  I  hope 
will  be  cured  in  time." 

"But  men  do  not  sigh  for  trifles." 

"Nor  was  it  a  trifle,  Lydda,  for  which  I 
sighed." 

Although  Andros  had  known  Lydda  from 
early  years,  and  their  families  had  been  fast 
friends,  he  had  never,  as  yet,  allowed  himself 
to  appear  formally  as  the  lover  of  Lydda. 
He  took  advantage  of  their  early  acquaint- 
anceship to  be  frequently  in  her  company, 
and  each  time  he  visited  her  and  old  Mel- 
lanides  more  fuel  was  added  to  the  fire  of  his 
unspoken  love.  He  knew  that  she  was  vast- 
ly his  superior  in  point  of  wealth  as  the 
heiress  and  only  child  of  the  old  soldier,  and 
yet  he  was  conscious  that  his  own  daily  in- 
creasing fortune  was  already  of  no  small 
proportions.  It  was  not  the  disparity  of  the 
goods  of  fortune  that  made  him  hesitate. 

He  was  aware  that  there  were  more  pro- 
spective suitors  than  himself  for  the  hand 
of  Lydda.  He  knew,  at  least  from  hearsay, 


30          A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS 

that  Metellus,  the  pro-consul,  desired  her 
hand  for  his  son  who  was  in  Rome.  He  was 
aware  also  that  Aratus,  although  not  nearly 
as  wealthy  as  himself — possessing  only  a 
fine  vineyard  on  the  southern  side  of  Cores- 
sus — aspired  to  be  considered  a  suitor.  The 
real  cause  of  his  own  reticence  was  that  he 
was  so  deeply  enamored  of  the  charms  of 
the  playmate  of  former  years  since  she  had 
grown  to  womanhood  that  he  actually  feared 
to  venture  and — lose. 

"There  are  many  things  in  my  mind  which 
are  puzzling  me,"  he  continued,  "and  I  have 
come  to  my  childhood's  friend  to  see  whether 
she  cannot  assist  me  to  solve  some  of  the 
riddles." 

The  daughter  of  Mellanides  remained 
silent,  expecting  Andros  to  continue.  In- 
stead of  proceeding,  he  sat  with  his  hand 
under  his  chin  and  his  elbow  resting  on  his 
knee,  watching  the  drifting  roses  in  the 
water  of  the  impluvium. 

"We  are  like  those  flowers,"  he  said  at 
length,  "blown  hither  and  thither  by  the 
breezes  of  circumstance.  It  cannot  be,  dear 
Lydda,  that  a  man's  life  and  his  hereafter  are 
dependent  on  the  mere  chances  of  fate.  My 
reason  revolts  at  such  a  thought,  and  yet — 
and  yet — " 

He  paused,  as  if  unable  to  put  the  thoughts 
that  had  been  so  recently  disturbing  him  so 
much  into  suitable  words. 

"Thou  feelest  as  I  do,  Andros,"  said  the 


A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS  31 

maiden  at  his  side,  "nor  can  I  assent  to  the 
national  and  universal  mode  of  worship  of 
the  great  Diana.  Why  call  her  the  chaste 
goddess  if  her  worship  consists  mainly  of 
things  neither  chaste  nor  temperate?  If 
Diana  dwells  among  the  Immortals  in  the 
heavens,  it  seems  to  me  that  she  cannot  de- 
light in  the  orgies  indulged  in  here  on  the 
earth  on  the  occasion  of  her  festivals." 

"Thou  art  ever  more  clever  than  I.  Thou 
puttest  my  thoughts  into  words.  There 
must  be  something  wrong,  as  thou  sayest. 
Oh!  that  I  could  see  wherein  to  change  it 
all!" 

"And  in  the  attempt  get  thyself  torn  to 
pieces  by  an  angry  populace?  No,  friend 
Andros,  thou  shalt  not  attempt  so  dangerous 
a  task." 

"I  care  not  for  the  danger,  Lydda,  if  I  knew 
what  to  do,  and  what  to  believe." 

"Of  this  be  sure,"  said  Lydda,  leaning  to- 
wards him  in  her  earnestness,  "if  this  re- 
ligion of  Diana  be  wrong — " 

"Oh,  say  not  so!  I  would  not  for  the 
world  unsettle  thy  faith  in  the  great  god- 
dess !"  exclaimed  Andros. 

He  was  of  too  loyal  a  nature  to  disturb 
the  faith  of  Lydda  on  account  of  the  difficul- 
ties he  found  in  it  for  himself.  For  an  instant 
he  saw  the  dreary  horrors  of  the  quagmire  of 
absolute  infidelity,  and  realized  as  never  be- 
fore how  necessary  a  belief  of  some  kind  is  to 
every  human  being. 


32  A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS 

"Be  not  afraid,"  said  Lydda,  to  his  relief, 
"that  I  am  about  to  forsake  the  faith  of  my 
ancestors,  and  our  people's  glory.  What  I 
mean  is  this:  if  the  worship  of  Diana  be 
wrong,  time  will  reform  it.  The  gross  and 
the  evil  in  it  will  slip  away." 

"I  fear  you  are  mistaken.  It  has  grown 
worse  and  more  gross  and  sensual  with  the 
ages.  The  very  beginning  of  the  worship 
was  frenzy.  You  know,  Lydda,  that  the 
statue  now  in  the  principal  shrine  of  the 
temple,  so  tradition  tells  us,  is  supposed  to 
have  fallen  from  heaven.  Its  discoverers  went 
mad,  and  those  who  placed  it  in  the  first  rude 
temple  became  insane  and  slew  each  other  at 
the  altar." 

"Oh,  but  such  things  cannot  be  the  inten- 
tion of  the  goddess!"  exclaimed  Lydda. 

"They  have  existed,  nevertheless,  as  long 
as  there  has  been  a  worship  of  the  mother  of 
the  gods,"  replied  Andros.  "Murder  and 
bloodshed  have  always  been  a  part  of  her 
ritual.  'Tis  all  a  mystery.  I  will  consult 
Cleomenes,  the  Athenian  philosopher,  who 
has  lately  come  to  Ephesus,  when  next  I  see 
him.  He  will  certainly  be  able  to  explain  to 
us  much  that  is  at  present  dark  and  difficult 
to  understand." 

"Ah,  do  so,  my  good  friend,  and  bring  me 
word.  Thou  art  not  more  interested  in 
the  answers  he  shall  give  than  I.  Wilt  thou 
walk,  Andros,  to  the  rose-garden?" 

They   prepared   to   go   out   to   the   rose- 


A  MAID  OF  EPHESUS  33 

garden,  but  further  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject that  interested  them  so  deeply  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  appearance  of  Mellanides.  He 
was  somewhat  garrulous  in  his  advanced 
years.  He  always  regarded  Andros  as  an  old 
friend  of  the  family  and  did  not  stand  on  cer- 
emony with  him. 

"Welcome,  welcome,  boy,"  he  said  heart- 
ily, as  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  him. 
"Come,  and  I  will  show  thee  my  late  roses 
and  my  grapes.  Hast  harvested  thine  own 
grapes  yet,  Andros  ?  Farewell,  daughter,  for 
a  short  time.  We  will  return  before  the 
noonday  meal." 

"No,  no,"  replied  Lydda,  "I  will  come  with 
you.  I  want  to  see  the  last  of  the  roses." 

"Thou  always  hast  thine  own  way.  Come, 
then,"  said  the  old  father,  fondly. 


CHAPTER  IV 
ARATUS  BEGINS  HIS  PLOTTING 

The  autumn  and  winter  passed  and  An- 
dros  found  himself  still  perplexed  and  no 
nearer  to  a  solution  of  his  difficulties.  The 
incongruities  of  the  cultus  of  Diana  appeared 
to  him  even  greater  than  ever.  He  was  re- 
ligious by  nature,  and  the  cravings  of  his 
soul  remained  unsatisfied.  For  him  the 
void  could  not  be  rilled  by  indulging  in  in- 
temperance or  in  grosser  crimes. 

He  had  often  discussed  his  difficulties  with 
Cleomenes,  the  Athenian  philosopher,  but 
without  receiving  any  satisfaction.  The  sage 
was  pretentious  but  shallow,  and  Andros  ob- 
tained very  little  assistance  from  him.  Find- 
ing that  he  received  no  benefit  whatever 
from  his  platitudes,  he  finally  ceased  to  visit 
him,  and  was  again  thrown  upon  his  own 
resources. 

Nor  had  the  frequent  discussions  with 
Lydda  helped  him.  These  had  only  in- 
creased his  difficulties,  for  he  saw  with  grow- 
ing alarm  that  the  woman  he  so  devotedly 
loved  was  becoming — at  least  he  thought  she 
was — unsettled  in  her  own  belief.  Whatever 
difficulties  it  might  be  his  misfortune  to 

34 


ARATUS'  PLOTTING  35 

encounter,  whatever  mental  tortures  he 
might  be  compelled  to  undergo,  he  was  de- 
termined, if  possible,  to  keep  Lydda  firm  in 
her  belief  in  the  divinity  of  the  goddess.  He 
fully  realized  that  some  belief  in  a  higher 
power  was  a  woman's  only  safeguard. 

He  saw  with  a  perspicacity  which  was,  per- 
haps, unusual  for  one  of  his  years,  that  from 
a  doubt  of  the  correctness  of  the  method  of 
worship  there  would  eventually  arise  a  doubt 
as  to  the  truth  of  the  worship  itself.  This  he 
was  determined  to  prevent  with  regard  to 
Lydda,  and  with  this  end  in  view  he  had  late- 
ly appeared  more  loyal  and  devoted  to  the 
goddess  when  in  the  presence  of  the  woman 
he  longed  to  make  his  wife.  Come  what  may 
to  himself,  he  frequently  resolved,  there 
should  nothing  happen  to  the  daughter  of 
Mellanides  if  it  were  in  his  power  to  pre- 
vent it. 

There  was  another  source  of  anxiety  for 
Andros  over  and  above  the  difficulties  of 
mind  which  had  grown  out  of  a  natural  re- 
pugnance to  what  was  base  and  low,  into 
which  he  saw  plainly  the  national  religion 
had  degenerated.  The  other  anxiety  which 
gnawed  constantly  was  the  thought  of  the 
danger  of  losing,  or  of  not  winning,  the 
woman  he  loved. 

On  several  occasions  of  late  when  visiting 
the  house  of  Mellanides  he  had  seen  Aratus 
in  close  and  earnest  conversation  with  Lyd- 
da. More  than  once  when  he  had  made  a 


36  ARATUS'  PLOTTING 

sudden  and  unexpected  entry  into  the  peri- 
style he  had  noticed  the  flushed  and  excited 
face  of  Aratus.  Was  Aratus  making  love  to 
her?  There  was  always  one  grain  of  com- 
fort for  him  on  these  occasions.  With  the 
lover's  jealous  eye  he  had  seen  with  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  relief  that  Lydda  appeared 
unmoved  and  unemotional.  This  was  his 
consolation,  that  however  passionate  the 
pleadings  of  Aratus  may  have  been,  she  to 
whom  they  were  addressed  did  not  appear  to 
reciprocate  them  in  the  least  degree. 

He  did  not  fail  to  notice  on  these  occasions 
the  gestures  of  annoyance  on  the  part  of 
Aratus  at  his  intrusion.  More  than  once  he 
caught  sight  of  an  ugly  leer  on  his  rival's 
face  which  he  realized  portended  no  good  for 
him.  He  knew  that  Aratus  was  unscrupu- 
lous, but  he  was  not  aware  that  he  would 
stop  at  no  means  to  gain  his  end.  Andros 
did  not  realize  this.  Being  a  sincere  char- 
acter himself  he  did  not  suspect  evil  in 
others.  Had  he  known  the  world  better  he 
would  have  realized  that  a  man  can  have  no 
greater  enemy  than  a  rival  lover. 

Aratus  had  learned  enough  from  the  art- 
less talk  of  Lydda  to  discover  the  somewhat 
peculiar  tone  and  condition  of  the  mind  of 
Andros.  He  determined  to  watch  him  close- 
ly in  order  to  gain  an  opportunity  to  de- 
nounce him  to  the  temple  authorities,  who 
exercised  a  species  of  baleful  influence  in  the 
city.  He  knew  that  if  Andros  was  once  in 


ARATUS'  PLOTTING  37 

the  clutches  of  the  relentless  priests  of  Diana 
he  would  no  longer  have  cause  to  fear  him  as 
a  rival.  Enormous  as  was  the  wealth  of  the 
temple,  Aratus  knew  very  well  that  the 
priests  would  spare  no  pains  to  increase  their 
store.  He  realized  that  should  Andros  once 
get  into  their  clutches,  neither  the  Chancel- 
lor nor  all  the  civic  authorities  combined,  nor 
the  Roman  pro-consul,  would  have  interest 
or  influence  sufficient  to  save  him  from  being 
fleeced  of  nearly  all  he  possessed  on  one 
specious  pretext  or  another. 

One  day  in  the  middle  of  the  month  of 
April,  just  before  the  beginning  of  the  Ar- 
temision  festival,  Lydda  and  Mellanides, 
with  both  Andros  and  Aratus  were  lounging 
on  cushioned  benches  placed  near  the  steps 
which  led  down  to  the  water  of  the  implu- 
vium.  All  were  watching  the  two  swans 
sailing  gracefully  about,  stirred  as  all  nature 
was,  by  the  spirit  of  spring.  Two  black  slave 
girls,  one  on  either  side  of  the  impluvium 
leaned  over  the  low  wall  and  alternately 
dropped  crumbs  of  bread  into  the  water. 
They  watched,  with  much  musical  laughter, 
the  race  of  the  swans  to  and  fro  to  secure  the 
coveted  morsels. 

"A  picture  of  life!"  said  Mellanides,  who 
prided  himself  upon  being  somewhat  of  a 
philosopher.  "Like  those  swans  we  rush 
hither  and  thither  after  life's  prizes  and  gen- 
erally succeed  in  obtaining  merely  the 
crumbs." 


38  ARATUS'  PLOTTING 

"But  surely,  sir,"  said  Andros,  "thou  hast 
received  more  than  the  crumbs  from  a  gen- 
erous emperor!" 

"Yes,  yes,  'tis  true;  but  I  am  speaking  in 
general.  Most  people  find  that  life's  battle 
gives  them  only  crumbs,  and  then  they  turn 
to  the  worship  of  the  gods  in  their  disap- 
pointment." 

"Then  you  imply,  sir,  that  those  who  have 
much  of  the  goods  of  fortune  do  not  need 
religion." 

"I  said  not  so;  but  they  that  have  wealth 
often  neglect  our  divinity." 

"As  is  the  case  with  our  friend  Andros 
here,"  said  Aratus,  insinuatingly.  "It  is 
commonly  reported  that  he  no  longer  at- 
tends the  sacrifices  of  the  temple,  nor  has  he 
of  late  sent  the  priests  any  sacrificial  fish." 

"Is  that  so!  Dear  me!  Andros,  is  that 
so?"  inquired  the  old  man  excitedly.  "By 
the  favor  of  Diana  thou  hast  inherited  much 
wealth.  It  is  ever  increasing.  Is  it  true,  An- 
dros, what  he  says  of  thee?  Art  thou  neg- 
lecting the  goddess?" 

Andros  cast  a  searching  glance  at  the  face 
of  Lydda.  He  saw  there  some  signs  of 
alarm.  Oh,  if  he  but  knew  how  much  of 
their  mutual  difficulties  she  had  revealed  to 
Aratus !  Turning  to  that  individual  he  dis- 
cerned the  evidences  of  a  malicious  satisfac- 
tion on  his  face.  He  became  angry. 

"'Tis  false!  false  as  he  who  made  it,"  he 
said  impulsively. 


ARATUS'  PLOTTING  39 

"Be  not  mistaken,  friend,"  said  the  rival 
diplomatically.  He  saw  that  he  would  have 
to  be  cautious  in  dealing  with  this  friend  of 
the  family.  He  did  not  desire  that  his  an- 
tagonism appear  too  soon.  His  plans  were, 
at  this  time,  not  fully  matured  and  he  feared 
a  false  step.  He  was  aware  that  Andros  had 
a  firm  hold  on  the  affections  of  the  old  sol- 
dier, and  he  did  not,  as  yet,  know  how  he  was 
regarded  by  Lydda.  "Be  not  mistaken.  I 
did  not  make  the  accusation.  I  merely  said 
that  it  was  of  common  report.  We  cannot 
prevent  the  wagging  of  people's  tongues. 

"That  I  grant,"  retorted  Andros,  "yet  we 
may  help  them  to  wag  more  viciously." 

He  was  very  angry,  and,  as  is  usually  the 
case  with  angry  people,  said  more,  and  in  a 
more  offensive  manner,  than  he  had  in- 
tended. 

"Come!  come!  young  men,"  said  Mellan- 
ides,  "I  will  have  no  disputing  here.  I  knew 
the  fathers  of  both  of  you,  and  I  regard  you 
both  in  some  way  as  sons.  I  will  have  no 
quarreling  here.  Come,  embrace  and  be 
friends  again." 

Both  young  men  held  the  old  general  in 
the  greatest  esteem.  His  word  was  law  to 
them,  at  least  in  such  matters  as  these,  and, 
especially,  when  they  were  his  guests.  It  was 
with  some  reluctance,  owing  to  their  nat- 
ural antipathy,  that  they  arose  and  clasped 
hands.  Both  sat  down  in  silence,  and  Lydda, 
in  order  to  relieve  the  tension  of  the  situa- 


40  ARATUS'  PLOTTING 

tion,  called  for  wine  and  some  musicaLin- 
struments. 

That  evening,  at  his  own  home,  Andros 
thought  long  over  this  scene.  In  a  certain 
way  he  was  glad,  or  at  least  satisfied,  that  it 
had  occurred.  He  now  knew  the  other's  dis- 
position towards  him.  He  felt  more  or  less 
certain  of  the  line  of  opposition  Aratus  would 
pursue.  He  knew  full  well  the  danger  of  be- 
coming involved  with  the  priests  of  Diana, 
for  he  had  often  heard  of  their  relentless  per- 
secutions of  persons  destitute  of  sufficient  in- 
fluence to  be  able  to  protect  themselves. 

He  realized  his  danger  and  resolved  that 
he  would  show  himself  publicly  in  the  temple 
of  Diana  within  a  few  days.  He  told  himself 
that  he  had  not  forsaken  the  worship  of 
Diana.  He  remembered  that  within  a  few 
days  the  Artemision  festival  would  begin 
and  continue  for  four  weeks.  He  had  in- 
tended and  was  still  resolved  to  avoid  the 
ritual  processions  and  their  subsequent  or- 
gies, but  had  arranged  that  some  harmless 
hunting  in  the  sacred  grove  of  Diana,  attend- 
ance at  the  rhetorical  and  philosophical  con- 
tests in  the  amphitheatre  and  his  daily  ex- 
ercise at  the  public  gymnasium  and  the  baths 
should  constitute  his  observance  of  the  Ar- 
temision. Now  he  changed  his  plan.  While 
fully  determined  not  to  witness  or  partake 
in  any  of  the  orgies,  he  would  to-morrow 
seek  out  some  friend  and  they  would  visit 
the  great  temple  of  Diana. 


ARATUS'  PLOTTING  41 

He  was  a  long  time  making  choice  of  a 
companion.  At  length  he  selected  Deme- 
trius. He  knew  that  he  was  sure  to  find  him 
in  the  temple  grounds  a  little  after  the  noon- 
day meal. 


CHAPTER  V 
A  GATHERING  CLOUD 

The  next  day  a  few  minutes  after  the  sun 
had  passed  the  meridian  Andros  wended  his 
way  toward  the  enclosure  of  the  temple.  As 
he  expected,  he  saw  Demetrius  near  the  en- 
trance gate  leaning  against  one  of  a  number 
of  pillars  which  supported  a  roof  extending 
all  around  the  outer  edge  of  the  grounds. 
This  roofed  promenade  was  much  fre- 
quented in  wet  weather  and  was  also  a 
shelter  from  the  burning  rays  of  the  sun. 

Demetrius  was  an  officious,  active  man, 
who  was  never  so  pleased  as  when  showing 
some  one,  stranger  or  citizen,  the  wonders 
and  glories  of  the  temple.  This  devout  wor- 
shipper of  the  huntress  goddess  was  to-day 
doomed  to  be  disappointed.  The  evening  be- 
fore, during  a  ritual  procession,  he  had  met 
two  Romans  who  had  promised  to  come  with 
him  to  see  the  riches  of  the  interior  of  the 
fane.  He  was  in  the  place  appointed  for  the 
meeting  punctually  at  noon,  pacing  up  and 
down  with  impatience.  He  was  about  to  re- 
turn to  his  own  home  with  something  very 
like  a  curse  upon  all  tardy  travellers  when  he 
was  accosted  by  Andros. 

"The   goddess    protect   thee,    Demetrius. 

42 


43 

Thou  awaitest  the  two  knights  that  were 
with  thee  last  evening?" 

"That  is  so,  my  friend,  and  they  are  dila- 
tory. If  they  come  not  within  the  next  few 
minutes  I  await  them  no  longer." 

"Let  me  inform  thee,  Demetrius,  that  they 
will  not  come.  I  saw  them,  at  the  third  hour 
this  morning,  ride  through  the  agora  and  out 
the  eastern  gate,  with  their  attendants." 

"They  have  gone,  and  I — "  began  Deme- 
trius in  dismay. 

"The  sights  last  night,"  interrupted  An- 
dros,  "excited  them  very  much.  The  danc- 
ing in  the  procession  raised  so  much  dust  that 
it  made  them  extremely  thirsty.  They  in- 
dulged, so  the  gossips  of  the  forum  say,  very 
freely  in  our  strong  Ephesian  wines.  Long 
after  midnight  the  pro-consul's  house  rang 
with  their  noise  and  laughter.  They  dis- 
turbed everybody.  Metellus  was  in  a  very 
angry  humor  this  morning.  He  ordered 
them  to  proceed  on  their  way  as  soon  as  they 
had  partaken  of  their  wine  and  bread." 

"So !  so !  and  all  my  plans — " 

"Be  not  dismayed  over  thwarted  plans.  I, 
although  a  native  of  Ephesus,  confess  that 
I  have  never  seen  the  full  wealth  of  the  tem- 
ple. If  thou  art  at  leisure — I  know  thy 
workshop  will  be  closed  for  the  greater  part 
of  the  month  of  the  Artemision — I  shall  be 
proud  if  thou  wilt  show  me  the  riches  of  the 
goddess." 

"Thou  an  Ephesian  and  hast  not  seen  her 


44          A  GATHERING  CLOUD 

treasures!"  exclaimed  Demetrius. 

"I  confess  it." 

"Howoldartthou?" 

"Thirty  years." 

"Take  shame  to  thyself  then.  A  poor  wor- 
shipper thou!" 

"Time  will  mend  my  faults,  if  thou  art 
kind." 

The  answer  pleased  the  enthusiastic  De- 
metrius, who  replied: 

"I  like  thy  manners.  I  will  show  thee  the 
temple.  I  am  well  known  within  it.  Hast 
thou  money  with  thee?" 

"Sufficient  for  all  the  needs  of  both  of  us," 
replied  Andros. 

With  all  his  enthusiastic  and  somewhat 
fussy  devotion,  Demetrius  was  shrewd.  He 
extolled,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  the 
greatness  of  Diana  and  the  wonders  of  the 
temple,  but  never  to  the  extent  of  loosening 
his  own  purse-strings. 

"Come  then,"  he  said,  "we  will  mount  the 
broad  steps  and  be  in  readiness  when  the 
great  doors  are  thrown  open.  The  high 
priestess  and  her  attendants  sleep  long  after 
a  great  procession." 

The  two  mounted  the  broad  flight  of  ten 
steps  and  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  one  of  the 
massive  pillars  of  the  platform. 

"While  we  wait  for  these  great  doors  to 
swing,"  said  Andros,  "tell  me  something 
about  the  mother  of  the  gods,  as  we  Ephe- 
sians  love  to  call  her." 


A  GATHERING  CLOUD          45 

This  was  precisely  the  subject  most  dear 
to  the  heart  of  Demetrius.  He  had  no 
greater  delight  than  in  discovering  a  willing 
listener.  Andros  probably  knew  more  of  the 
subject  than  Demetrius,  but  he  wished  to  de- 
tain him  until  the  temple  was  open.  Deme- 
trius took  himself  seriously. 

"It  pleaseth  me,"  he  said,  "that  thou  art 
one  of  the  few  who  seek  knowledge  concern- 
ing our  worship.  Young  man,  thou  art  supe- 
rior to  most  youths  of  thy  age  who  think  of 
nothing  in  these  days  but  the  making  of  love 
songs,  or  of  wasting  their  time  on  the  verses 
of  Sappho." 

Andros  smiled.  He  felt  that  the  compli- 
ment was  undeserved,  for  he  was  taking  but 
half  an  interest  in  the  whole  affair.  It  was  a 
holiday  with  him.  He  regarded  the  journey 
he  was  about  to  make  with  Demetrius  as  one 
entirely  of  sight-seeing,  and  not  one  of  devo- 
tion. He  was  also  making  the  visit  from  a 
motive  of  policy  and  to  dull  the  edge  of  the 
sarcasm  which  emanated  from  the  vicious 
tongue  of  Aratus.  He  had,  of  course,  often 
been  within  the  temple,  but  he  had  never 
seen  the  great  statue  unveiled,  nor  had  it 
been  his  good  fortune  to  witness  the  display 
of  the  vast  treasures  of  the  temple.  He  now 
relied  upon  Demetrius  to  gain  admission  to 
the  treasure  rooms. 

Demetrius  settled  down  comfortably  after 
the  manner  of  professional  story-tellers. 

"Diana,  daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Latona, 


46         A  GATHERING  CLOUD 

and  sister  of  Apollo,  was  born  in  the  island 
of  Delos,"  he  began.  "She  is  Diana  on  earth, 
Luna  in  heaven,  and  Hecate,  or  Proserpine 
in  hell.  Her  father,  at  her  request,  granted 
her  perpetual  virginity,  bestowed  on  her 
bows  and  arrows,  appointed  her  queen  of  the 
woods  and  forests,  and  assigned  her  sixty 
nymphs,  called  Oceania,  and  twenty  of  the 
Asiae  as  guards  and  attendants.  Knowest 
thou,  young  man,"  continued  Demetrius, 
"why  Diana  presides  over  the  craft  by  which 
thou  art  adding  to  thy  store  of  wealth — 
over  fishermen  and  in  general  over  all  who 
use  nets  for  the  taking  of  game?" 

Andros  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"Britomartis,  daughter  of  Jupiter  and 
Carme,  being  out  hunting,  accidentally  en- 
tangled herself  in  her  own  nets  whilst  a  wild 
boar  was  approaching;  upon  which  she 
vowed  a  temple  to  Diana  if  she  might  es- 
cape the  danger.  Escaping,  she  erected  a 
temple  to  Diana  Dictynna.  Diana's  virtue 
was  not  only  inviolable,  but  very  severe." 

"If  that  be  so,"  asked  Andros,  suddenly, 
"why  such  orgies  as  were  witnessed  in  the 
streets  last  night?  These  very  temple 
grounds  were  the  scene  of  grossest  de- 
bauchery." 

Demetrius  appeared  nonplussed  for  the 
moment. 

"Surely  if  the  virtue  of  the  goddess  were 
severe,"  continued  Andros,  "her  worshippers 
should  imitate  her." 


A  GATHERING  CLOUD          47 

Demetrius  paused.  He  appeared  very 
much  annoyed.  He  frowned,  and  stared  into 
the  face  of  the  younger  man,  but  seeing  that 
his  countenance  was  imperturbable,  and 
without  indication  of  either  ridicule  or  sar- 
casm, he  began  to  make  some  sort  of  an  ex- 
planation. 

"You  see — ah! — this  is  the  way  the  wor- 
ship has  assumed  its  present  form.  The  first 
worshippers  went  mad  and  killed  each  other. 
From  that  fact  the  tradition  grew  that  the 
goddess  craved  human  blood." 

"So  the  cultus  of  Diana  is  in  process  of 
change  as  it  were?"  asked  Andros,  remem- 
bering Lydda's  conviction  that  the  worship 
would  improve. 

"I  think  so.  Originally  human  sacrifices 
were  offered,  but  later,  animals  dressed  in 
men's  clothes  and  bearing  men's  names  were 
substituted.  Now  we  sacrifice  to  Diana  here 
in  Ephesus  the  first  fruits  of  the  earth,  oxen, 
rams  and  white  hinds.  In  different  parts  of 
the  world,  so  travellers  tell  us,  men  are  still 
occasionally  sacrificed." 

"The  priest  of  Diana  Aricina  must  be  a 
murderer,  must  he  not?"  asked  Andros,  who 
really  knew  a  great  deal  about  the  history  of 
the  goddess. 

Once  more  Demetrius  flushed  angrily.  He 
could  not  fathom  the  motive  of  the  ques- 
tioner, nor  could  he  decide  whether  the 
young  man  was  merely  sneering,  or  seeking 
information.  Noticing  a  slight  muscular 


48          A  GATHERING  CLOUD 

movement  of  the  lips,  and  hastily  deciding  it 
was  one  of  amusement,  Demetrius  became 
very  angry. 

"Great  is  Diana  of  the  EphesiansP'  he 
shouted  in  a  very  loud  and  angry  voice,  "and 
thou  art  nought  but  a  scoffer  of  her  divin- 
ity!" 

It  was  the  same  angry  voice  and  the  same 
words  with  which,  years  later,  this  same 
Demetrius  was  to  lead  an  infuriated  mob 
against  the  Apostle  Paul.  When  Demetrius 
raised  his  voice  in  anger  it  was  heard  by 
many  within  the  enclosure,  who  came  run- 
ning to  the  steps  of  the  temple  thinking  to 
witness  the  not  uncommon  sight  of  a  devotee 
in  a  frenzy  of  madness,  in  which  he  would 
dance  and  sing  the  praises  of  the  goddess 
until  he  fell  to  the  ground  in  utter  exhaus- 
tion. Andros  did  not  know  whether  the 
gathering  contained  spies  or  friends  of  Ara- 
tus  to  whom  they  would  report  his  conduct. 
He,  therefore,  shouted  in  a  loud  voice: 

"Aye,  great  is  Diana!  Great  is  Diana  of 
the  Ephesians!" 

He  then  turned  to  Demetrius  and  spoke 
to  him  in  a  lower  tone  and  somewhat 
severely : 

"Thou  art  but  a  poor  teacher  when  thy 
pupil  asks  for  information.  I  ask  again, 
good  sir,  why  must  the  priest  of  Diana  Ari- 
cina  be  a  murderer?" 

The  self-constituted  defender  -of  the  god- 
dess now  appeared  as  desirous  of  avoiding 


A  GATHERING  CLOUD          49 

the  attention  of  the  crowd  as  was  Andros.  In 
a  lowered  voice  he  answered: 

"Thy  manner,  O  master  fisherman,  and 
the  nature  of  thy  question  led  me  to  think 
that  thou  wert  not  a  follower  of  the  pride 
of  Ephesus.  Perhaps  thou  art  a  worshipper 
in  some  other  temple?  But  no;  thou  didst 
cry,  'Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians,'  and  I 
see  the  bulla  thou  wearest  over  thy  tunic 
contains  some  of  the  Ephesian  magic  letters. 
'Tis  a  safe  amulet.  So  I  will  answer  thee. 
I  have,  in  fact,  answered  thee  already.  In 
this  particular  temple  Diana  is  supposed  to 
require  the  shedding  of  human  blood  in  her 
sacrifices.  Thou  canst  easily  see  that  the 
hand  already  stained  with  the  blood  of  his 
fellow  would  not  shrink  from  human  sacri- 
fice." 

Andros  nodded  as  if  satisfied,  but  interior- 
ly his  disgust  was  intensified.  His  repug- 
nance to  the  whole  system  returned  in  great- 
er force. 

"What  more  canst  thou  tell?" 

Demetrius  delighted  in  displaying  his 
knowledge  to  any  one  who  would  listen.  A 
willing  listener  was  a  rare  person  for  him 
of  late  years.  He  had  told  all  he  knew  so 
frequently  to  his  acquaintances  that  long  ago 
they  begun  to  shun  him.  The  greater  the 
difficulty  he  found  in  securing  an  audience 
the  more  he  burned  to  display  his  knowledge. 
On  this  occasion,  then,  his  good  humor  soon 
returned. 

4 


50          A  GATHERING  CLOUD 

"Aye,  aye,  much  more  have  I  to  tell  thee 
if  thou  wilt  but  lend  thine  ears.  It  is  won- 
derful how  widespread  is  the  worship  of  our 
goddess.  Diana  Luna  is  the  Alilat  of  the 
Arabians.  In  Egypt  Hecate  is  the  Bubastes. 
She  fled  from  Typhoeus  into  Egypt  and  as- 
sumed the  shape  of  a  cat.  She  is  Diana 
Cynthia  in  the  island  of  Delos.  The  people 
of  Elis  call  her  Speculatrix.  The  Phoeni- 
cians took  her  worship  into  Greece.  The  in- 
habitants of  Caran  in  Mesopotamia  thought 
that  the  men  who  believed  the  moon  to  be 
a  goddess  would  be  slaves  to  their  wives  as 
long  as  they  lived,  but  they  who  esteemed 
the  deity  as  a  god  would  always  be  their 
masters." 

Andros  laughed  aloud.  He  assured  Deme- 
trius that  he  would  always  regard  the  moon 
as  a  male  Heity  in  future. 

"Of  Hecc/e,"  continued  Demetrius,  "I 
could  tell  thee  many  things,  but — see!  see! 
the  great  doors  are  being  opened.  We  will 
go  within." 


CHAPTER  VI 
A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL 

Before  going  into  the  temple  on  his  visit 
of  policy  rather  than  of  devotion,  the  atten- 
tion of  Andros  was  called  by  Demetrius  to 
its  magnificent  outer  proportions. 

"Is  there  a  grander  edifice  in  the  whole 
world?"  exclaimed  the  guide,  aglow  with  na- 
tional pride.  "The  ground  on  which  the 
temple  is  built,"  he  continued,  happy  to  show 
his  knowledge,  "was  originally  marshy  and 
the  edifice  is  said  to  contain  as  much  ma- 
sonry below  the  ground  as  above  it.  Count 
the  columns  of  the  peristyle,  Andros,  and 
thou  wilt  find  there  are  one  hundred  and 
twenty  of  Ionic  architecture,  a  style  of  archi- 
tecture invented  especially  for  this  temple." 

There  were  good  grounds  for  the  silver- 
smith's pride.  The  edifice  was  four  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  long  and  two  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  wide,  and  in  magnificence  was 
surpassed  by  no  other  building  in  the  world, 
except,  perhaps,  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem. 
Along  the  outside  walls  ran  a  row  of  splendid 
columns,  and  in  front  of  each  was  placed  a 
statue  of  heroic  size.  The  large  eastern  doors 
were  of  cypress  wood,  the  planks  of  which 
had  been  treasured  for  four  generations. 

51 


52       A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL 

Each  panel  was  covered  with  plates  of  beaten 
gold,  and  on  them  were  hung  many  votive 
offerings.  The  roof  was  entirely  of  cedar, 
as  were  the  horizontal  beams  of  the  ceiling. 

On  entering  the  building  Andros  was  al- 
most overwhelmed  at  the  sight  of  the  riches 
displayed  and  with  the  riot  of  color.  Thirty- 
six  columns  supported  the  roof.  They  were 
ornamented  with  metal,  gilding,  and  stained 
with  red,  orange,  crimson  and  blue  colors. 
Scopas,  the  celebrated  sculptor,  is  said  to 
have  carved  one  of  the  pillars.  Colored 
stones,  glass,  and  rich  pigments  were  used 
everywhere  in  profusion.  Some  of  the  cap- 
itals of  the  pillars  were  sculptured  with  a 
band  of  human  figures.  Others  had  ded- 
icatory inscriptions.  A  broad  frieze,  finely 
sculptured  with  lions'  heads  and  antifixse  at 
intervals,  broke  the  honeysuckle  ornaments 
running  along  the  summit  of  the  cornices. 

To  the  eye  there  was  a  feast  of  barbaric 
splendor. 

At  intervals  along  the  north,  east,  and 
south  walls  were  numerous  shrines,  each 
containing  a  statue  of  Diana.  Some  were  of 
pure  gold;  others  of  fairest  ivory;  one  was 
of  ebony  and  several  were  of  purest  alabas- 
ter. The  greater  number  were  of  native 
marble  from  Mt.  Pion,  a  quarry  situated 
close  to  the  northern  gate  of  the  city. 

One  statue,  on  which  Demetrius  gazed 
with  evident  excitement,  and,  as  Andros 
thought,  with  avaricious  eyes,  was  of  solid 


A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL       53 

silver.  It  represented  Diana  as  a  huntress. 
Her  hair  was  flowing  freely;  over  her  shoul- 
ders was  a  sheepskin  above  a  short  tunic.  At 
her  side  hung  a  quiver  of  arrows.  In  her  left 
hand  she  held  a  bow,  while  her  right  was  en- 
gaged in  restraining  a  hind  which  she  held 
by  the  antlers.  The  statue  was  exquisitely 
wrought.  It  attracted  more  attention  than 
even  the  golden  ones,  all  of  which  possessed 
less  artistic  excellence  of  workmanship. 

The  wealth  of  the  interior  of  the  building 
was  simply  untold.  One  would  imagine  that 
all  the  riches  of  Asia  were  here  gathered  to- 
gether. Every  shrine  contained  an  abun- 
dance of  votive  offerings;  golden  cups,  bows, 
vases,  shields,  the  spoils  of  war,  tripods  for 
holding  incense;  and  all  of  exquisite  work- 
manship. Priceless  rugs  from  Persia  and 
rich-hued  tapestries  were  hung  on  the  walls 
or  scattered  about  among  the  various 
shrines.  Immense  golden  vases  filled  with 
Smyrna  incense  stood  before  many  of  the 
shrines.  Worshippers  paid  a  small  coin  to 
the  attendant  priest,  scooped  out  a  shell  of 
incense  and  threw  it  on  the  burning  coals  of 
the  tripod. 

During  the  Artetnision,  vast  numbers  of 
people  flocked  to  the  temple.  At  all  the 
shrines  a  constant  stream  of  incense  smoke 
was  ascending,  so  that  before  Andros  and 
Demetrius  had  been  long  in  the  temple  the 
ceiling  of  scarlet-painted  cedar  wood  was 
partially  hidden.  The  smoke  got  into  their 


54        A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL 

eyes  and  throats  and  affected  the  brain  with 
a  species  of  intoxication. 

Evenor  and  Parrhasius,  Appelles  and 
Zeuxis — he  who  is  said  to  have  painted  the 
portrait  of  a  comical  old  woman,  the  expres- 
sion of  which  was  so  ridiculous  that  he 
laughed  himself  to  death; — were  all  at  differ- 
ent times  residents  of  Ephesus,  and  priceless 
paintings  of  each  were  seen  on  the  walls  of 
the  temple. 

It  was  only  during  the  great  spring  festival 
that  the  altars  were  so  extraordinarily  en- 
riched. The  immense  wealth  upon  which 
the  people  now  feasted  their  eyes  was  usually 
kept  in  the  treasure-house  behind  the  great 
statue  of  Diana,  which  was  the  principal  ob- 
ject of  interest  in  the  immense  building. 

By  the  time  that  Demetrius  and  his  com- 
panion had  leisurely  viewed  the  richness  and 
the  beauty  of  the  various  shrines,  the  edifice 
was  nearly  filled  with  worshippers. 

"Come,  Andros,  come  quickly,"  said  De- 
metrius, "I  have  learned  that  the  great  statue 
is  to  be  unveiled  for  a  short  time.  I  want 
thee  to  have  a  good  view  of  the  glory  of  the 
gods." 

The  two  worked  their  way  with  some  dif- 
ficulty westward  and  secured  a  convenient 
position  before  the  great  purple  curtain 
which  hid  the  principal  statue  from  view. 

The  parapetasma,  or  immense  veil,  hung 
,from  the  ceiling  to  the  ground.  It  was  made 


A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL       55 

of  rich  purple  silk  and  ornamented  profusely 
with  figures  and  arabesques  in  gold  thread. 

Standing  before  the  veil,  Andros  was  vis- 
ibly excited.  It  may  have  been  that  the  fumes 
of  the  incense  had  to  some  extent  affected  his 
brain.  Hitherto,  amid  all  the  riot  of  riches 
and  color,  his  interest  had  been  small  and 
his  attention  vagrant.  Now,  for  some  unex- 
plained reason,  standing  at  the  very  heart 
and  holy  of  holies  of  the  religion  of  his  child- 
hood, on  the  most  sacred  spot  in  the  whole 
world  for  a  true  Ephesian,  his  expectations 
were  high,  although  he  could  not  have  put 
them  into  words  or  have  told  the  vague  long- 
ings of  his  soul. 

Perhaps  at  the  sight  of  the  image  of  the 
deity  he  would  receive  inspiration — a  light 
for  the  mind  which  would  forever  settle  all 
his  difficulties.  Here,  at  the  very  heart  of 
the  worship  which  embraced  the  greater  part 
of  the  known  world,  he  would  understand  all. 
Now,  if  ever,  would  come  a  solution  to  the 
problems  which  had  puzzled  him  for  so  long 
a  time.  Henceforth  his  way  would  be  clear. 
He  scarcely  knew  for  what  he  longed,  yet  his 
spirits  began  to  rise. 

Everything  around  him  was  gross  and  ma- 
terial. Much  was  sordid  and  repellent  to  one 
of  his  mental  calibre.  He  was  about  to  see 
the  most  sacred  thing  of  his  lifelong  worship. 
Surely  light  and  inspiration  would  come,  and 
the  higher  and  nobler  part  of  his  nature 
would  now  be  satisfied.  In  a  few  minutes 


56       A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL 

there  would  be  an  end  to  the  mental  pertur- 
bations of  months.  His  heart  beat  so  vio- 
lently that,  notwithstanding  the  scuffling  of 
many  hundreds  of  feet  on  the  stone  flooring, 
he  imagined  that  Demetrius  must  hear  it. 

Suddenly  a  loud  blast  from  silver  trumpets 
rang  throughout  the  great  edifice.  It  sent 
the  blood  tingling  through  the  veins  with 
expectancy.  Although  loud  and  piercing, 
the  clarion  call  was  very  musical.  It  was 
produced  by  sixty  performers  who  were 
stationed  behind  the  parapetasma. 

Andros  expected  the  curtain  to  swing 
apart  in  the  center.  He  was  surprised  to  see 
that  the  great  Diana  was  exposed  to  view 
gradually,  and  with  the  worst  possible  effect, 
by  the  curtain  being  raised  from  the  ground. 
Thus  the  base  of  the  statue  was  first  exposed, 
then  the  trunk  and,  finally,  the  head. 

There  arose  one  long,  wild  shout  of  en- 
thusiasm as  the  curtain  rose.  Many  fell 
prostrate  on  the  ground.  Hands  were  thrust 
forward  and  upward  in  earnest  appeal  to  the 
goddess.  An  impartial  observer  witnessing 
this  scene  could  not  have  said  that  paganism, 
as  it  here  manifested  itself,  was  a  continuous 
rebellion  against  God.  As  evidenced  by  the 
supplications  of  the  multitude,  it  was  an 
earnest  grasping  out  after  something. 

The  sensation  most  predominant  with 
Andros,  as  he  gazed  on  the  great  Diana  for 
the  first  time,  was  that  of  fear  mingled  with 
horror  and  disappointment. 


A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL       57 

He  had  expected  to  see  the  embodiment  in 
stone  of  some  high  and  beautiful  idea.  In- 
stead, he  beheld  severity  and  an  absence  of 
all  real  beauty  in  the  image  which  had  made 
Ephesus  famous  for  many  generations. 

The  hall  was  sixty  feet  high.  The  statue 
was  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  standing  on  a 
pedestal  rising  five  feet  above  the  platform, 
and  was  itself  thirty  feet  in  height.  When 
unveiled  it  was,  of  course,  the  main  feature 
of  the  temple  and  dominated  everything. 
The  statues  around  the  walls  in  the  various 
shrines  looked  small  and  insignificant  by 
comparison,  although  many  of  them  were  of 
much  greater  intrinsic  value. 

The  features  of  the  great  Diana  were 
carved  in  lines  of  utmost  severity.  They  typi- 
fied the  avenger  rather  than  the  dispenser 
of  mercy.  The  head  was  surmounted  with 
a  golden  tower,  indicating  dominion  over 
all  terrestrial  objects.  Around  the  head  was 
a  nimbus  containing  eight  griffins,  to  denote 
the  brilliancy  of  the  glory  of  the  goddess. 
The  body  contained  a  numberless  quantity 
of  breasts,  to  show  that  the  goddess  was  the 
support  and  mother  of  all  living  creatures. 
Across  the  breasts  and  around  the  body  were 
the  twelve  signs  of  the  zodiac.  Those  seen  in 
front  of  the  figure  were  the  Ram,  the  Bull, 
the  Twins,  the  Crab  and  the  Lion.  Around 
the  neck  there  was  placed  a  necklace  of 
acorns,  the  primeval  food  of  man.  Each  arm 
supported  two  lions,  denoting  her  power;  the 


58        A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL 

hands  were  stretched  out  as  if  to  show  that 
she  was  ready  to  recompense  all  who  came 
to  her. 

The  lower  part  of  the  body  was  covered 
with  curious  beasts — sirens,  sphinxes  and 
griffins,  intended  to  show  that  she  was  the 
source  of  all  nature  and  the  mother  of  all 
living  things.  The  head,  hands,  and  feet 
were  composed  of  brass.  The  rest  of  the 
enormous  statue  was  of  alabaster. 

As  the  parapetasma  rose  Andros'  disillu- 
sion began.  To  him  there  was  something 
repulsive  in  the  barbaric  statue  before  him. 
He  had  hoped  for  an  inspiration.  This  was 
grossness.  Instead  of  the  sacred  and  gener- 
ally hidden  statue  helping  him  to  approach 
nearer  to  his  ideal  of  what  worship  should 
be,  it  aroused  all  the  antagonism  in  his  na- 
ture. The  rude  splendor  of  the  temple  itself 
had  offended  his  Grecian  taste,  but  he  had 
hoped  to  find  a  recompense  in  some  inspiring, 
ideal  work  of  art.  The  crude  and  unlovely 
severity,  with  its  overloaded  symbolism, 
repelled  and  disgusted  him. 

The  abundance  of  incense  that  was  being 
burned  before  the  statue,  the  prolonged, 
shrill  blasts  from  the  silver  tubse,  the  fevered 
corybantic  dances,  the  incessant  striking  of 
perpendicular  rods  with  deadened  hammers, 
the  shower  of  rose  petals  from  the  ceiling  in 
front  of  the  statue,  the  gyrations  and  bow- 
ings of  the  priests  and  their  monotonous 
chanting,  together  with  the  roar  of  the 


A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL       59 

increasingly  excited  multitude — all  passed 
before  him  as  if  he  were  in  a  dream.  He 
appeared  to  himself  to  be  some  impersonal 
being  standing  aloof  as  a  mere  witness  of  the 
ceremonies. 

Demetrius  was  almost  frenzied  with  devo- 
tional excitement.  He  turned  to  his  com- 
panion. 

"Shout,  Andros,  shout  with  the  rest  to 
our  great  Diana.  Why  art  thou  so  silent? 
Shout,  I  say.  Shout!"* 

Upon  hearing  Demetrius'  voice,  thick  and 
hoarse  from  excitement,  Andros  aroused 
himself  and  came  out  of  his  semi-stupor. 

"I  will  shout,"  he  said,  vehemently,  "in 
-honor  of  Diana  of  Ephesus,  but  not  to  honor 
such  a  fetish  as  that!" 

He  pointed  a  finger  of  scorn  at  the  idol. 
It  was  a  bold  speech  at  such  a  time  and  in 
this  particular  place.  Had  he  been  less 
vexed,  or  less  disappointed,  he  would  not 
have  made  it. 

For  one  minute  Demetrius  was  silent,  as 
if  to  gather  the  full  import  of  the  words,  or 
as  if  stunned  by  their  audacity.  Then,  as 
if  suddenly  realizing  the  enormity  of  the 
crime,  he  put  his  hands  around  his  mouth, 
trumpet-fashion,  and  shouted: 

"Ho!  ho!  citizens  of  Ephesus!  A  blas- 
phemer of  the  divinity!  Stone  him!  Kill 
him!  Kill  him!" 

Fortunately  for  Andros,  the  imprecation 
was  not  well  heard  among  the  hundreds  busy 


60       A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL 

with  their  own  loud  supplications.  A  cer- 
tain number  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  the  two  men,  however,  had  heard  it  but  too 
well.  Andros  saw  his  danger.  He  made 
one  desperate  dash  to  escape.  He  knew  it 
was  for  life  and  liberty. 

Before  he  could  be  seized,  he  ran  along 
the  south  side  of  the  platform  to  the  western 
doors  in  the  rear  of  the  great  statue  and 
reached  the  open  air.  But  he  was  not  to 
escape  thus  easily.  A  number  of  frenzied 
men  had  taken  up  the  cry  and  came  pouring 
out  through  the  same  door  by  which  he  had 
made  his  exit.  He  saw  that  now  his  life 
depended  on  his  fleetness  of  foot.  He  knew 
that  the  River  Selinus  ran  the  length  of  the 
wall  of  the  temple  enclosure.  There  was  no 
escape  in  that  direction.  He  saw,  with  the 
quick  perception  of  one  in  imminent  danger, 
that  he  would  have  to  run  at  least  seven  hun- 
dred feet  before  he  could  reach  the  eastern 
city  gate  and  mix  with  the  promiscuous 
throng  of  the  city  streets. 

While  he  ran,  the  savage  shouting  in- 
creased. He  reached  the  gate  before  the 
gatekeepers  understood  that  they  should 
have  closed  it  against  him.  They  thought 
he  was  the  leader  in  some  festive  sport. 
Escaping  from  the  temple  enclosure,  he  ran 
through  the  crowded  streets  in  a  southerly 
direction  and  over  the  river  bridge  until  he 
came  to  the  western  extremity  of  Mount 
Coressus.  With  the  shoutings  of  the  infuri- 


'Shelter!  Safety!     They  seek  my  life!"  he  panted.     Page  61. 


A  SCORNER  OF  THE  IDOL       61 

ated  mob  ringing  in  his  ears  he  dashed  into 
the  thickest  of  the  woods  on  the  mountain 
slope,  where  he  lay  hidden  by  the  dense 
foliage.  Having  somewhat  regained  his 
breath,  he  started  again  as  soon  as  he  dis- 
covered that  his  pursuers  were  dangerously 
near.  He  ran  on  until  he  came  in  sight  of 
the  farmhouse  near  the  fountain,  formerly 
owned  by  the  inebriate  Pelopidas,  and  now 
occupied,  as  he  knew,  by  the  strange  people 
whom  he  had  intended  to  visit  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  grape  harvest  of  the  previous 
year. 

It  was  with  some  trepidation  that  he 
knocked  at.  the  door,  for  his  imagination  had 
attributed  to  these  unknown  people  many 
mysterious  qualities.  In  his  present  danger, 
however,  he  dared  not  hesitate. 

"Shelter!  safety!  They  seek  my  life!"  he 
panted. 

"Come  in,  and  welcome  in  the  name  of 
God,"  was  the  immediate  and  unexpected 
reply  of  the  one  who  opened  the  door.  It 
was  quickly  closed  and  barred,  and  without 
a  question  being  asked  he  was  at  once  taken 
to  an  upper  room. 

"Bar  the  door,  friend,  on  the  inside,  and 
thou  art  safe.  The  walls  and  door  are 
strong.  Stay  thou  as  long  as  thou  wilt. 
When  thou  art  rested  I  will  bring  thee 
refreshments." 


CHAPTER  VII 
UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF 

Andros  lay  panting  on  the  couch  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  half-angry  and  half- 
amused.  The  incident  had  been  so  sudden 
that  at  present  he  did  not  fully  realize  the 
danger  he  had  escaped.  It  cannot  be  said 
that  he  was  exhausted  by  the  physical  effort 
of  his  flight.  His  daily  visits  to  the  city 
gymnasium  and  his  frequent  attendance  at 
the  public  baths  rendered  him  athletic  and 
capable  of  bearing  a  greater  strain  than  the 
race  of  three  miles  which  he  had  undergone. 
He  had  often  run  as  far  for  the  mere  pleasure 
of  exercise,  and  had  once  been  crowned  with 
oak  leaves  in  the  stadium  for  fleetness  of 
foot. 

When  his  breathing  became  more  regular 
he  began  to  ask  himself  how  it  had  all  come 
about.  He  scarcely  remembered  what  he 
had  said  to  Demetrius  to  make  him  so  angry. 
He  was,  however,  fully  conscious  of  the 
effect  of  the  words,  whatever  they  may  have 
been.  His  mind  went  back  over  the  various 
events  of  the  flight.  How  like  a  pack  of 
angry  Scythian  wolves  had  appeared  his  pur- 
suers, as  he  once  and  again  looked  back  at 
them.  He  remembered  how  an  aged  peddler 

62 


UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF      63 

of  almond  paste  and  sweet  cakes  carried  his 
basket  of  wares  upon  his  head,  and  how  he 
had  shouted  to  him  to  stand  clear.  The  old 
man  was  either  deaf  or  stupid,  or  determined 
to  impede  his  flight.  Andros  laughed  aloud 
at  the  remembrance  of  how  he  had  seen  the 
contents  of  the  basket,  when  the  inevitable 
collision  came,  shoot  up  into  the  air  like  a 
spray  of  water  and  settle  in  all  directions  in 
the  dust  of  the  street.  "Poor  old  man,"  he 
thought,  "perhaps  that  was  his  only  means 
of  livelihood.  When  this  affair  blows  over 
I  will  seek  him  out  and  pay  him  for  the  loss 
of  his  wares." 

The  fugitive  from  the  mob's  anger  was  not 
uneasy  concerning  his  future  safety.  He 
knew  his  Ephesians.  They  were  light  and 
frivolous  of  character.  He  had  seen  many  a 
man  pursued  by  an  angry  gathering  for  some 
real  or  fancied  offense  against  the  goddess 
of  the  city.  In  his  younger  days  he  had 
engaged  in  similar  frolics  himself.  If  the 
pursued  was  caught,  it  went  hard  with  him 
in  some  cases.  Not  infrequently  the  rough 
handling  during  the  excitement  of  the  mo- 
ment resulted  in  death.  If  he  were  fleet  of 
foot  enough  to  escape,  he  and  the  incident 
were  soon  forgotten.  In  a  few  days  it  was 
safe  for  the  object  of  the  rabble's  momentary 
displeasure  to  appear  again  in  public.  He 
had  seen  many  an  event  of  this  sort.  His 
own  predicament,  therefore,  gave  him  no 
particular  concern,  now  that  the  immediate 


64      UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF 

danger  was  over.  The  people  were  always 
good-humored  at  the  Dianan  festival. 

While  revolving  these  and  such  like 
thoughts  in  his  mind  as  he  rested  himself  on 
the  couch,  he  suddenly  heard  a  loud  knocking 
at  the  door  of  the  house  and  the  tramp  of 
many  feet  on  the  portico. 

"Open!  open!  we  seek  a  fugitive  from  jus- 
tice! Hast  thou  seen  a  young  man,  out  of 
breath  from  running,  pass  this  way?" 

Andros  held  his  breath  to  hear  what  would 
be  the  nature  of  the  reply.  He  distinctly 
heard  the  answer,  given  in  the  same  even 
tones  used  by  the  person  who  had  shown  him 
to  the  room  where  he  was  now  hiding. 

"Nay,  friends,  no  stranger  hath  passed 
this  house  to-day." 

"That  is  strange !  He  wore  a  pale  yellow 
peplum  and  had  a  red  Phrygian  cap." 

"No  man  with  such  holiday  garments  hath 
been  here  to-day.  We  have  seen  nought  of 
such  a  one." 

This  was  literally  true,  for  in  his  flight 
Andros  had  thrown  away  his  cap,  and,  find- 
ing the  outer  ornamental  cloak,  such  as  was 
worn  by  the  better  class  on  festival  days,  a 
detriment  to  his  speed,  he  had  cast  that  off, 
too. 

"Thou  wilt  not  harbor  him  if  he  cometh 
this  way?" 

"It  is  not  probable,  friend,  that  a  criminal 
would  be  found  out  here  in  the  open  country. 
Such  people,  as  thou  oughtest  know,  mostly 


UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF      65 

hide  where  the  population  is  densest.  I  rec- 
ommend thee,  friend,  to  seek  for  the  one  thou 
desirest  in  the  theatre  or  in  the  forum.  Dost 
thou  not  see  that  he  would  be  easy  of  cap- 
ture out  in  the  open  fields?  By  what  name 
dost  thou  call  him  whom  thou  seekest?" 

"We  know  not  his  name.  All  we  know 
is  that  he  blasphemed  the  goddess  Diana, 
and  that  he  fled  from  the  temple." 

"Art  thou,  then,  not  engaged  in  a  bootless 
task?"  Andros  heard  his  protector  ask  in 
those  even  tones  of  his,  in  which  the  fugitive 
thought  he  now  detected  a  trace  of  ridicule. 

"People  who  hunt  for  criminals  generally 
know  the  person  whom  they  seek.  Thou 
hast,  of  course,  a  warrant  from  the  chancel- 
lor of  the  city,  or  from  the  pro-consul  of  the 
province?" 

"Neither.  We  came  as  representatives  of 
the  pontifex  of  Diana." 

"Then  I  advise  ye,  friends,  to  be  very  care- 
ful. Of  course  ye  know  that  ye  are  out  of 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  temple,  and  even  out 
of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  city  authorities.  To 
act  here,  beyond  the  city  gates,  thy  warrant 
must  come  from  the  Roman  pro-consul. 
Thou  art  aware  that  he  is  no  worshipper  of 
Diana,  but  perhaps  thou  dost  not  know  so 
well  that  he  is  very  jealous  of  his  preroga- 
tives." 

By  the  silence  which  followed  Andros  was 
sure  that  his  pursuers  had  begun  to  realize 
their  false  position.  He  was  convinced  of 


this  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  he  heard  the 
tramping  of  departing  feet.  Silence  again 
settled  down  upon  the  house. 

The  incident  diverted  his  thoughts  into 
another  direction.  He  could  but  admire  the 
adroitness  with  which  the  master  of  the 
house  had  parried  the  questions,  and,  with- 
out even  saying  what  was  not  the  truth,  had 
not  revealed  the  whole  truth.  He  asked  him- 
self, time  and  again,  what  interest  could  the 
chief  of  the  strange  people — for  the  one  who 
had  admitted  him  and  parried  the  questions 
appeared  to  be  the  leader  among  them — 
what  interest  could  these  people  have  in  shel- 
tering and  protecting  him.  They  had  not 
even  asked  who  he  was,  but  had  at  once  given 
him  shelter  and  incurred  no  small  danger  in 
doing  so.  What  was  their  motive? 

In  view  of  his  own  training  from  his 
earliest  youth,  such  a  course  of  conduct  he 
regarded  as  inexplicable.  He  was  a  stranger 
to  these  people.  Why  should  they  take  him 
in  and  shelter  him  from  danger?  What  mo- 
tive could  have  prompted  them  to  put  his 
savage  pursuers  off  the  scent?  They  cer- 
tainly expected  no  reward, ,  for  he  did  not 
appear,  dishevelled  as  he  was  when  he  ar- 
rived, to  be  the  possessor  of  wealth.  What, 
then,  was  the  motive?  This  he  asked  him- 
self again  and  again  and  finally  gave  it  up 
as  unanswerable. 

Toward  nightfall,  just  when  the  first  star 


UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF      67 

appeared  in  the  steel-blue  sky,  he  heard  a 
gentle  knocking  at  the  door  of  his  refuge. 

"Unbar  thy  door,  friend.  Fear  nothing; 
thou  art  among  friends.  We  bring  thee 
wherewith  to  refresh  thyself." 

When  Andros  had  removed  the  large  oak 
bar  from  the  staples  and  had  opened  the 
door,  an  elderly  woman  entered  the  room 
bearing  in  her  hands  a  dish  of  fruit  and  some 
white  bread  of  wheat.  Having  placed  them 
upon  the  table,  she  took  from  a  younger 
woman,  who  had  accompanied  her,  a  skin  of 
wine  and  a  dish  of  meat  that  had  been  re- 
cently cooked.  A  third  person  brought  a 
dish  of  sweet  cakes  and  some  honey. 

When  she  had  tastily  arranged  the  meal, 
she  spoke  to  Andros  in  a  kindly,  motherly 
way.  Andros,  surprised  as  he  was  with  the 
attention  and  kindness  bestowed  upon  him, 
thought  he  detected  a  tinge  of  humor  in  her 
speech. 

''Doubtless  by  this  time  thou  art  hungry — 
young  people  generally  are.  I  hear  thou 
hast  been  exercising  thyself  somewhat  vio- 
lently this  afternoon.  That  is  apt  to  create 
hunger.  Eat  thy  fill,  good  friend,  and 
mayest  thou  rest  well  to-night.  My  husband 
bids  me  say  that  thou  canst  rest  in  peace  this 
night,  for  those  who  sought  thee  will  riot 
try  to  molest  thee  more." 

There  was  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes, 
which  were  set  in  a  good-natured,  good- 
humored  face.  Andros  was  under  the  im- 


68      UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF 

pression  that  the  last  few  words  she  spoke 
ended  in  something  very  like  a  chuckle. 

"May  I  inquire,"  he  said,  in  surprise  at  the 
simplicity  and  graciousness  of  it  all,  "why 
you  treat  one  whom  you  have  never  seen 
before  as  if  he  were  a  brother  or  a  son?" 

"Suffice  that  thou  art  in  trouble.  That  is 
reason  enough." 

"But  you  know  me  not.  I  may  be  a  robber 
or  a  murderer." 

She  smiled  in  her  kind,  motherly  way. 

"Thou  lookest  neither.  I  know  thou 
needest  help.  That  is  enough.  We  seek  to 
do  good  to  others  as  we  would  have  them  do 
good  to  us.  Eat  thy  meal,  friend,  and  rest 
thee  well." 

She  came  later  to  remove  the  remains  of 
the  meal,  and  once  more  assured  him  of  his 
safety.  Andros  was  charmed  with  the  kind- 
ness he  had  received.  The  gentleness  of 
manner  of  the  elderly  matron  was  particu- 
larly appealing  to  him.  The  kindness  of 
him  who  had  received  and  sheltered  him  im- 
pressed him.  It  was  all  so  unlike  anything 
he  had  ever  known.  There  was  no  ostenta- 
tion. Everything  was  said  or  done  with  a 
simplicity  of  manner  and  a  naturalness  which 
captivated  the  young  man. 

"They  admit  me  without  question  and  find 
me  a  place  of  safety,"  he  mused.  "They  not 
only  do  this,  but,  unsolicited,  they  champion 
my  cause.  How  clever  was  not  the  old  man 
in  getting  rid  of  my  pursuers !  Why  do  they 


UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF      69 

do  all  this  for  a  stranger?  Ah,  perhaps  in 
the  morning  they  will  demand  payment  for 
their  services.  Payment!  Did  I,  I  wonder, 
lose  my  purse  in  my  mad  flight  for  my  life! 
Let  me  see." 

He  arose  from  the  couch  and  lifted  his 
tunic  and  girdle  from  the  floor,  where  he  had 
thrown  them.  Shaking  them  out,  he  found 
to  his  dismay  that  his  purse  was  missing. 
It  had  fallen  from  his  belt  during  his  run- 
ning. He  was  greatly  annoyed,  for  he  sin- 
cerely desired  to  make  a  handsome  payment 
in  the  morning.  "Ah,  well,  I  will  send  some 
one  in  the  morning  to  my  steward  in  the 
agora  venalis,  or  to  one  of  my  servants  of 
my  house,  and  let  him  bring  me  a  supply  of 
money.  Yes,  they  shall  be  recompensed. 
They  do  not  appear  to  be  any  too  well  off 
in  the  goods  of  fortune." 

He  formed  this  judgment  as  he  looked 
around  the  sparsely  furnished  room  where 
he  had  taken  refuge. 

"I  wronder  what  these  strange  people  are. 
They  are  not  to  be  feared,  at  all  events. 
They  must  be  good,  for  none  but  those  pos- 
sessing goodness  would  treat  me  as  they 
have  done.  Perhaps  they  are  a  new  class 
of  worshippers  of  Diana,  with  a  truer  and 
better  code  of  morals  and  a  purer  worship. 
Perhaps  they  are  those  for  whom  my  soul 
has  unconsciously  been  reaching  out.  Who 
can  tell  what  the  future  holds!  It  may  be 
that  through  these  kind  people  I  shall  find 


70      UNDER  A  STRANGE  ROOF 

a  purified  and  ennobling  worship  of  the  great 
goddess." 

With  such  thoughts  as  these  he  at  length 
fell  into  dreamless  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
A  VISION  OF  PEACE 

The  young  fugitive  slept  the  sleep  of  the 
healthy.  Toward  the  dawn  he  was  aroused 
from  his  slumbers  by  a  peculiar  noise,  the 
like  of  which  he  had  never  heard.  Whether 
this  sound  had  influenced  him  unconsciously 
before  it  had  awakened  him,  he  did  not  know, 
but  he  had  dreamed  that  it  was  raining  hard 
and  that  he  could  hear  heavy  rain-drops 
beating  upon  the  roof.  With  his  returning 
consciousness  he  was  not  sure  whether  the 
noise  of  his  dream  was  not  a  reality. 

Stretching  himself  upon  his  couch  after 
the  manner  of  healthy  men  just  aroused 
from  slumber,  his  brain  began  to  clear.  The 
strange  sound  continued.  He  could  not  un- 
derstand it.  At  times,  though  never  loud, 
it  faintly  resembled  the  patter  of  rain-drops. 
Then  he  thought  it  bore  resemblance  to  the 
confused  sounds  of  many  voices  in  the  dis- 
tance. Ah,  if  the  priests  of  Diana  had  taken 
yesterday's  incident  more  seriously  than  was 
their  wont,  and  had  sent  out  a  fresh  company 
of  devotees  to  scour  the  country  in  search  of 
him!  But  the  sounds  came  no  nearer  with 
the  lapsing  of  many  minutes.  He  thought 
that  perhaps  they  might  proceed  from  some 

71 


72  A  VISION  OF  PEACE 

cascade  in  close  proximity  to  the  house.  He 
arose  and  looked  out  of  the  windows  on  two 
sides  of  the  room.  The  daylight  was  suf- 
ficiently strong  for  him  to  see  that  the  flat 
nature  of  the  ground  in  every  direction  pre- 
cluded this  supposition.  On  every  side  were 
rows  upon  rows  of  well-kept  vines,  just  now 
a  tender  green  with  the  early  leaves  of 
spring. 

He  lay  down  again,  listening  intently  and 
much  puzzled.  The  sound  was  not  intense, 
but  resembled  the  distant  hum  of  bees  at 
swarming  time,  although  it  was  not  contin- 
uous. There  seemed  to  be  marked  and  regu- 
lar pauses.  After  a  time,  at  intervals  there 
was  a  fainter  droning  sound,  as  if  some  large 
insect  were  beating  its  wings  against  a  win- 
dow-pane. Then  it  was  stronger,  short  and 
quick,  and  then  occasional  silences.  Andros 
was  not  to  learn  for  a  long  time  the  meaning 
of  these  sounds  which  were  to  him  at  present 
so  great  a  mystery. 

It  might  have  been  one  hour  after  these 
strange  noises  had  ceased  that  the  master  of 
the  house  knocked  at  his  door.  Andros  had 
performed  his  ablutions  and  was  noiselessly 
pacing  up  and  down  the  rather  small  room, 
lost  in  deep  thought.  He  was  considering 
what  was  the  best  mode  of  proceeding  for 
the  day.  Would  it  be  wiser  to  go  back 
boldly  to  his  own  house  in  the  city,  not  far 
from  the  public  gymnasium,  or  would  it  be 


A  VISION  OF  PEACE  73 

the  part  of  prudence  to  remain  in  seclusion 
in  this  peaceful  place  for  a  few  days? 

"I  trust  thy  slumbers  have  been  refresh- 
ing?" said  the  one  who  had  received  him  into 
the  house  the  day  before. 

"Excellent,  thanks  to  thine  hospitality/' 

"The  morning  meal  is  now  prepared. 
Wilt  thou  be  pleased  to  take  it  with  us,  or 
shall  my  wife  bring  it  to  thee  here?" 

"I  will  come,  and  thanks,"  said  Andros, 
curious  to  see  who  and  how  many  consti- 
tuted the  family. 

He  was  conducted  to  a  large,  pleasant 
room  where  the  early  morning  meal  had 
already  been  placed  upon  the  table.  It  was 
abundant  yet  frugal,  consisting  of  barley 
bread,  figs,  apples,  wine,  milk  and  honey. 
Andros  noticed  that  before  the  seat  to  which 
he  was  motioned  there  was  some  bread  of 
wheat  and  fish.  The  introduction  was  brief 
and  without  formality. 

"I  am  Elymas,  and  thou  hast  already  seen 
my  wife,  Joanna.  These  are  my  sons  and 
daughters,  and  this  is  Abdiel,  whom  we  hold 
in  great  respect." 

There  were  two  sons  and  two  daughters. 
Andros  afterwards  learned  that  the  young 
men's  names  were  David  and  Gedaliah.  One 
of  the  young  women  was  called  Esther  and 
the  other  Hannah.  He  surmised  that  the 
children's  ages  ranged  from  seventeen  to 
twenty-five.  Elymas  was  about  fifty-five 
years  of  age,  and  possessed  a  handsome, 


74  A  VISION  OF  PEACE 

bearded  face  which  indicated  great  refine- 
ment and  culture. 

In  the  place  of  honor  at  the  end  of  the 
table  sat  Abdiel,  to  whom  all  appeared  to 
pay  a  special  respect,  all  remaining  silent 
whenever  he  began  to  speak.  The  father  and 
mother  sat  at  his  right  and  left,  and  Andros 
was  placed  next  to  Elymas. 

All  trepidation  Andros  had  momentarily 
felt  as  he  approached  the  house  the  previous 
afternoon  had  long  been  obliterated  by  the 
unfeigned  kindness  they  had  shown  him.  He 
was  grateful,  but,  nevertheless,  very  curious. 
Totally  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  motive 
of  giving  him  shelter,  and  of  treating  him, 
a  stranger,  as  one  of  themselves,  he  earnestly 
desired  to  learn  more  about  them. 

Before  sitting  down  to  the  meal  he  ob- 
served that  all  remained  silent  for  the  space 
of  about  one-third  of  a  minute.  Andros 
expected  that  he  who  occupied  the  place  of 
honor  would  pour  a  libation  to  Jove  or 
Bacchus,  or  perhaps  to  Diana.  To  his  sur- 
prise, nothing  of  the  kind  occurred. 

The  conversation  during  the  meal  was  ani- 
mated and  cheerful  without  boisterousness. 
Andros  saw  that  there  was  a  sort  of  familiar 
equality  between  parents  and  children  which 
was  entirely  devoid  of  disrespect.  All  gave 
profound  attention  to  the  few  words  to 
which  Abdiel  gave  utterance. 

"Perhaps  some  sage  or  philosopher  among 


A  VISION  OF  PEACE  75 

these  people,"  thought  Andros,  "who,  like 
myself,  is  a  passing  guest." 

When  the  meal  was  finished  Andros  and 
Elymas  repaired  to  the  portico  in  front  of  the 
house.  For  the  first  time  the  guest  felt  con- 
strained and  awkward,  but  he  did  not  know 
his  host.  He  was  remembering  that  he  had 
lost  his  purse  in  the  running  yesterday. 

"I  thank  thee,  Elymas,  for  this  hospitality 
and  for  the  saving  of  my  life.  When  I  ran 
to  thy  door,  if  thou  hadst  stopped  to  ques- 
tion, or  if  thou  hadst  hesitated,  without  a 
doubt  my  body  this  morning  would  have 
been  food  for  those  vultures  that  are  wheel- 
ing aloft  yonder." 

"Thou  art  as  welcome  as  if  thou  wert  my 
own  son,  good  friend." 

Andros  bowed  at  the  kindly  sentiment. 
His  heart  warmed  to  the  elderly  man  who 
evinced  dispositions  so  entirely  foreign  to 
the  people  of  his  native  city. 

"I  regret  the  loss  of  my  purse.  At  present 
it  prevents  me  from  offering  for  thy  accept- 
ance a  just  recompense.  I  would  beg  one 
more  favor." 

"Anything  within  my  power,"  said  Ely- 
mas, "I  shall  be  pleased  to  do.  How  can  I 
serve  thee?" 

"Wilt  thou  permit  thy  son  David  to  go 
into  the  city  for  me,  to  my  house  near  the 
public  gymnasium?  Any  citizen  will  point 
out  the  house  of  Andros.  My  house  steward 
will  send  me  gold,  if  thy  son  but  present  this 


76  A  VISION  OF  PEACE 

ring.  Then  I  shall  be  able  to  repay  thee  in 
part  for  all  thy  kindness." 

"If  thou  dost  not  require  money  for  other 
purpose  than  this,"  replied  Elymas,  gently 
but  firmly,  "it  is  useless  to  send  the  boy. 
Let  thy  mind  be  at  rest,  good  sir.  Thou  art 
welcome  to  all  thou  receivest.  We  take  no 
recompense  from  those  we  entertain,  but  feel 
honored  at  their  coming.  Thy  visit  hath 
brought  a  blessing  to  my  house." 

"What!  thou  savedst  my  life,  shieldest  me 
from  later  danger,  affordest  me  entertain- 
ment and  wouldst  not  receive  recompense!" 

"We  have  been  recompensed  already." 

"How?  By  whom?  None  of  my  servants 
have  been  here?" 

"Nay,  friend  Andros,  our  reward  comes 
from  a  source  of  which  thou  art  at  present 
ignorant.  Perhaps  at  a  later  time  I  may 
tell  thee  more." 

"Thou  speakest  in  mysteries.  Tell  me  thy 
motive  for  so  much  kindness  to  one  to  whom 
thou  art  a  stranger." 

"Rest  content  with  the  knowledge  of  our 
good  will  toward  thee.  Thou  wouldst  not 
understand  our  motives.  They  would  ap- 
pear incredible  to  thee.  Be  ye  content  for 
the  present  with  the  fact  that  we  wish  thee 
well." 

With  this  Andros  had  to  be  content.  He 
determined,  however,  that  when  occasion 
arose  he  would  endeavor  to  learn  the  motive 
of  their  kindly  acts  to  strangers  and  the 


A  VISION  OF  PEACE  77 

reason  of  their  strange  refusal  of  recom- 
pense. 

"This  is  the  day  we  rest  from  our  labors," 
said  the  host.  "Wilt  thou  be  pleased  to  walk 
about  the  farm  with  me,  or  perhaps  thou 
wouldst  rather  rest  after  thine  unwonted 
exertions  of  yesterday?" 

The  young  Ephesian,  laughing  at  the  idea 
of  weariness,  accepted  the  invitation.  He 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  morning  among 
the  vines  and  in  the  meadows.  Returning 
about  an  hour  before  the  noon,  Elymas,  with 
delicate  tact,  left  him  to  the  seclusion  of  his 
own  room  until  the  principal  meal  of  the  day 
was  announced. 

The  mention  of  the  day  of  rest  did  not  par- 
ticularly attract  the  attention  of  Andros. 
He  attributed  it  to  the  Artemision  festival, 
now  in  full  progress,  which,  evidently,  these 
simple  folk  observed  in  their  own  quiet  way. 
After  a  time,  when  it  grew  near  sundown,  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  he  had  heard  no  men- 
tion all  day  either  of  the  goddess  Diana  or 
of  the  processions  or  the  games.  He  thought 
this  somewhat  strange,  as  at  this  season  of 
the  year  there  was  scarcely  a  house  in  Ephe- 
sus  where  these  subjects  were  not  the  fore- 
most topic  of  conversation. 

Andros  found  his  intercourse  with  the 
family  delightful.  He  could  not  help  no- 
ticing that  there  was  a  freshness  and  buoy- 
ancy of  conversation,  mingled  with  a  spritely 
playfulness,  that  charmed  him.  Humor  and 


78  A  VISION  OF  PEACE 

modest  hilarity  were  participated  in  by  all, 
mingled  with  the  exercise  of  parental  au- 
thority on  the  one  side  and  of  prompt,  yet 
dignified,  submission  on  the  part  of  the  sons 
and  daughters. 

It  was  all  remarkable,  all  strange  to 
Andros,  although  very  pleasant  to  witness. 
It  was  a  phenomenon  such  as  had  never  come 
under  his  observation  before.  He  felt  in 
some  undefined  way  that  in  this  household 
there  existed  a  concrete  example  of  the  spirit 
of  purity  and  virtue.  He  began  almost  im- 
perceptibly to  regard  Joanna  with  that 
religious  reverence  which  he  had  felt  for  his 
goddess  in  his  early  youth,  when  his  view  of 
life  was  more  roseate  and  ideal  than  it  had 
become  in  his  later  years.  He  watched  the 
family  closely  and  was  convinced  of  the 
mutual  love  existing  among  them  and  of 
the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  and  genuine 
hospitality. 

At  his  host's  urgent  solicitation  he  re- 
mained several  days  as  guest.  He  had 
learned  to  love  the  family  and  looked  for- 
ward to  the  reunion  at  the  time  of  meals  with 
no  little  delight,  for  it  was  a  phase  of  life  to 
which  he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger. 

These  kindly  people  possessed  a  strange 
fascination  for  him.  The  remembrarice  of 
the  remark  made  by  the  gross  and  red-faced 
Callinus  in  the  beginning  of  the  grape  har- 
vest of  the  previous  year — "Are  the  women 
beautiful?  If  so  'twould  be  worth  while  to 


A  VISION  OF  PEACE  79 

visit  them,  and  we  would  then  learn  more 
about  them" — now  grated  harshly  upon  his 
nerves.  He  determined  that,  if  he  could  pre- 
vent it,  neither  Callinus  nor  any  of  his  com- 
panions should  ever  visit  this  peaceful  house- 
hold. It  was  with  unmixed  pleasure  now 
that  he  realized  that  his  position  in  Ephesus 
and  his  no  inconsiderable  wealth  would  en- 
able him  in  the  future,  should  the  occasion 
ever  arise,  to  act  as  a  patron  and  protector  of 
this  family. 

He  was  by  no  means  certain  that  they 
would  not  require  protection  before  long. 
Already  he  had  seen  that  they  were  not,  and 
made  no  pretension  of  being,  worshippers  of 
the  Asiatic  goddess.  As  far  as  he  could  see 
they  worshipped  neither  god  nor  goddess. 
A  flitting  thought  occasionally  urged  him  to 
ask  them  to  explain  their  worship,  if  they 
possessed  any.  He  was  not  sure  that  the 
family  had  any  set  form  of  worship,  for  he 
had  failed  to  discover  any  indication  thereof 
in  the  house.  In  every  Ephesian  home  there 
could  be  found  a  little  shrine  of  Diana,  or 
Hecate,  or  Artemis  the  healer,  and  among 
strangers  residing  in  the  city  who  were  wor- 
shippers of  other  gods  there  could  be  found 
their  household  gods.  In  the  house  of  Ely- 
mas  neither  shrine  nor  statue  was  to  be 
found,  nor  anything  whatever  to  indicate  to 
which  cultus  the  occupants  adhered. 

Andres  remained  some  days  a  welcome 
guest,  and  when  he  bade  the  family  farewell 


80  A  VISION  OF  PEACE 

his  heart  warmed  towards  these  kindly  peo- 
ple in  a  way  he  had  never  experienced  before. 
He  would  have  remained  longer  had  he  not 
become  anxious  concerning  the  welfare  of 
Lydda.  He  knew  Aratus  would  be  a  fre- 
quenter at  the  mansion  in  his  absence,  and  he 
feared  his  machinations  against  himself. 


CHAPTER  IX 
OUT  OF  THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH 

Mellanides  and  Lydda  had  heard  nothing 
of  the  adventure  of  Andros.  For  three  or 
four  days  they  did  not  regard  his  absence  as 
anything  remarkable,  yet  when  he  remained 
away  for  a  whole  week  they  began  to  wonder 
whether  some  misfortune  had  not  befallen 
him. 

Aratus,  who  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
villa  during  the  absence  of  Andros,  was  not 
perplexed.  He  had  heard  nothing  of  the 
visit  of  Andros  to  the  temple,  nor  of  the 
anger  of  Demetrius.  The  city  during  the  fes- 
tival month  was  overcrowded  with  visitors, 
and  there  were  numberless  feasts  and  festi- 
vals to  occupy  the  attention  of  everybody. 
The  mere  pursuing  of  one  man  by  a  small 
company  of  people  from  the  temple  caused 
but  the  faintest  ripple  of  excitement  in  the 
immense  throng  on  the  streets. 

It  is  small  wonder,  then,  that  Aratus  heard 
nothing  of  the  incident.  He  supposed  that 
his  rival  was  away  at  the  Silenusian  lakes, 
looking  after  his  fishing  interests.  It  was 
well  known  that  the  priests  of  Diana  held 
large  interests  in  the  lakes,  and  Aratus  imag- 

81 


82          THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH 

ined  that  Andros  had  gone  north  to  protect 
his  rights. 

He  was  not  displeased  that  his  rival  was 
absent,  for  Lydda  and  he  were  much  to- 
gether during  this  time.  He  greatly  desired 
to  be  able  to  ingratiate  himself  with  Lydda 
so  as  to  render  Andros  furious  and  despair- 
ing when  they  should  meet  again,  but  the 
daughter  of  Mellanides  gave  him  no  encour- 
agement. She  was  kind  and  affable,  but 
made  no  response  to  his  not  infrequent  pas- 
sionate appeals  for  her  love.  Her  affection 
for  him  appeared  to  be  purely  platonic.  She 
regarded  him  as  a  lifelong  acquaintance,  with 
whom  she  could  be  on  a  much  more  free  and 
familiar  footing  than  with  a  stranger.  Be- 
yond that  her  thoughts  did  not  appear  to 
wander,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  Aratus,  who 
realized  that  he  was  making  but  small,  if 
any,  progress. 

An  event  occurred  two  days  after  Andros 
had  left  the  house  of  Elymas  which  did  not 
tend  to  increase  the  friendship  which  Aratus 
professed  to  entertain  for  Andros. 

The  mansion  of  Mellanides  was  situated  in 
a  domain  which  was  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  the  windings  of  the  River  Caystrus. 
That  part  of  the  beautiful  grounds  which 
sloped  toward  the  river  in  northerly  and 
westerly  directions  was  shaded  by  large  oaks 
and  ornamented  with  laurel  and  oleander 
bushes.  The  eastern  slope  was  devoted  to 
the  famous  rose-gardens  and  to  the  cultiva- 


THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH  83 

tion  of  the  vine.  The  velvet  lawns  were 
beautifully  kept  and  reached  down  to  the 
water's  edge. 

Statuary  in  profusion,  in  marble  from  Mt. 
Pion,  adorned  the  grounds,  while  here  and 
there  were  cages  of  wild  animals — the  old 
general's  spoils  of  war.  Eagles  from  Pales- 
tine sat  caged  in  proud  captivity.  Numerous 
peacocks  strutted  around  the  lawn,  proudly 
displaying  their  gorgeous  plumage  or  rend- 
ing the  air  with  their  jealous  screeches  in 
opposition  to  the  sweeter  notes  of  the  captive 
lyre-birds. 

A  mile  west  of  the  villa  began  a  large 
stretch  of  forest  land.  This  was  the  Grove 
of  Diana.  It  was  well  stocked  with  game 
and  during  the  Artemision  there  was  much 
hunting  there  in  honor  of  the  huntress  god- 
dess. Owing  to  the  river  banks  within  the 
boundaries  of  Mellanides'  property  being 
patrolled  by  Roman  guards — whom  the  pro- 
consul had  lent  to  the  old  soldier  to  guard 
his  privacy — there  was  not  much  intrusion 
by  strangers  on  the  grounds.  The  lorica  of 
the  soldiers  glittered  in  the  sun,  and  the 
crimson  comb  of  horsehair  on  the  helmets 
was  enough  to  warn  away  trespassers,  al- 
though the  river  was  alive  with  boats  and 
barges  of  all  kinds. 

Lydda  reclined  on  cushions  in  a  beautiful 
boat  made  to  represent  a  swan.  Nubian 
slaves,  one  at  either  end,  poled  the  boat  out 
into  the  stream  and  then  let  it  drift  slowly  on 


84          THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH 

the  gentle  current.  She  was  attended  by 
two  or  three  slave  girls  and  was  dressed  in 
her  customary  simple  white  stola,  over  which 
she  had  thrown  a  mauve  silk  chlamys,  or 
traveling  cloth,  which  was  fastened  at  the 
shoulder  with  a  clasp.  The  richness  of  the 
chlamys  told  of  the  rank  in  life  of  the  women 
who  wore  it.  The  one  Lydda  had  chosen 
was  wrought  with  curious  designs  in  gold 
thread,  and  here  and  there  were  hand-paint- 
ings of  flowers  and  human  heads. 

The  boat  had  been  pushed  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  Lydda  enjoyed  the 
moving  panorama  of  brilliant  colors  as  other 
boats  and  barges  passed  and  repassed  her. 
Some  had  awnings  of  pink  silk,  while  others 
let  crimson  cloths  trail  in  the  water  behind 
them.  Some  were  moving  masses  of  bril- 
liant-hued  flowers  which  completely  hid  the 
occupants. 

Around  the  bend  of  the  river  there  sud- 
denly appeared  a  large  barge  magnificently 
decorated  with  festoons  of  roses.  Four  row- 
ers sat  near  the  gunwale  on  either  side.  Be- 
tween them  was  a  raised  platform  on  which 
reclined,  on  cushions  and  low  seats,  a  com- 
pany of  young  people  of  both  sexes.  All 
were  garlanded  with  roses,  wearing  them 
around  their  necks,  waists,  and  on  their 
heads.  There  was  much  drinking,  laughing 
and  loud  singing.  In  imitation  of  the  Greek 
galley,  the  prow  of  the  vessel  was  adorned 
with  a  cheniscus  resembling  the  head  and 


THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH          85 

neck  of  an  aquatic  bird  of  enormous  propor- 
tions. The  cheniscus  was  almost  covered 
with  myrtle  and  wreaths  of  flowers.  On  the 
prow  itself  were  painted  two  large  eyes. 

Wine  flowed  freely.  Serving  men  kept 
the  goblets  full.  Some  of  the  occupants  of 
the  barge  had  already  succumbed  to  the 
fumes  and  were  lying  either  in  a  maudlin  or 
drunken  stupor.  Others  appeared  to  be  in 
the  highest  state  of  hilarity.  The  oarsmen, 
who  were  not  unsupplied  with  the  intoxicat- 
ing beverage,  rowed  recklessly,  and  even  the 
steersman  at  the  helm  grew  careless. 

The  other  pleasure  boats  on  the  river 
rowed  to  either  bank,  to  be  out  of  harm's 
way,  with  all  possible  speed.  Lydda's  little 
vessel  was  merely  a  fanciful  punt,  and  was,  in 
consequence,  moved  very  slowly  by  the 
slaves.  When  she  saw  the  barge  bearing 
down  on  her  she  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  and  instantly  she  realized  her 
danger.  Her  awkward  slaves — or,  indeed, 
the  best  managers  of  a  boat  with  the  means 
of  propelling  it  that  were  at  hand — could  not 
get  out  of  the  way  of  the  rapidly  approaching 
barge  with  its  careless  and  drunken  crew, 
who  were  celebrating  a  kind  of  Bacchanalian 
water  festival.  Notwithstanding  that  for  a 
long  term  of  years  the  Bacchanalian  orgies 
had  been  suppressed  as  public  functions  in 
the  Roman  Empire,  and  to  perform  them  in 
private  the  permission  of  the  Praetor  Ur- 
banus  and  a  confirmatory  vote  of  the  Senate 


86          THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH 

had  to  be  obtained,  yet  the  practice  in  the 
provinces  was  never  wholly  suppressed. 
Rome  winked  at  many  things  in  her  prov- 
inces, provided  the  annual  vectigalia,  or 
imperial  tax,  was  forthcoming. 

In  less  than  half  a  minute  from  the  time 
the  barge  had  turned  the  bend  in  the  river  it 
had  struck  the  swan-boat  of  Lydda.  With  a 
shriek  the  handmaidens  flung  themselves 
into  the  water.  The  two  pole-men  were 
struck  down  and  fell  into  the  water,  never  to 
rise  again.  Half-stunned  by  the  concussion, 
Lydda  was  thrown  into  the  water.  She  for- 
tunately grasped  one  of  the  poles  as  it  was 
floating  down  the  stream  and  with  its  aid 
managed  to  keep  her  head  above  the  water 
for  a  few  minutes. 

The  brutal  rioters  in  the  pleasure  barge  did 
not  stop  to  see  what  damage  they  had  done. 
In  the  distance  could  be  heard  their  laughter 
and  ribald  songs. 

Lydda  held  to  the  pole  until  her  strength 
was  exhausted.  Just  as  she  was  sinking 
down  into  the  dark  green  waters,  she  felt  a 
strong  arm  encircling  her  and  her  head 
gently  forced  against  a  manly  shoulder. 

"Thanks  be  to  all  the  gods  that  I  arrived 
in  time  to  save  the  light  of  my  life!  my 
Lydda !  my  Lydda !" 

And  then  she  knew  no  more  for  many  min- 
utes. Andros,  who  had  been  hunting  in  the 
Grove  of  Diana  was,  by  chance,  near  the 
scene  of  the  accident.  He  had  recognized 


THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH          87 

Lydda's  little  boat  in  the  stream,  and  she  had 
gaily  waved  her  hand  to  him  a  moment 
before  the  big  barge  had  rushed  onward  in 
its  destructive  course.  He  spurred  his  horse 
into  the  river  as  far  as  it  could  keep  its  foot- 
ing and  then  he  swam  vigorously  to  the  sav- 
ing of  the  life  of  the  one  for  whom  he  would 
willingly  have  lost  his  own. 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  BITTERNESS  OF  ENVY 

One  of  the  Roman  guards  ran  to  the  house 
to  give  tidings  of  the  disaster.  Old  Mellan- 
ides,  frantic  with  distress  at  the  news, 
which,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  was  distorted 
and  made  to  appear  worse  than  the  circum- 
stance warranted,  came  running  down  the 
sloping  lawn,  his  toga  flying  out  far  behind 
him. 

"My  daughter!  my  darling!  my  only  one!" 
he  screamed,  long  before  he  reached  her  drip- 
ping form  in  Andros'  arms  at  the  water's 
edge.  "Oh,  is  she  dead?  my  own,  my  sweet 
child !  Dead !  dead !  Oh,  ye  gods,  have  pity 
on  my  old  age !  Restore  her  to  me  again — 
the  joy  of  my  old  age !" 

"She  is  not  dead,  good  sir,"  said  Andros, 
who  still  held  her  in  his  arms;  "the  shock  of 
the  collision  and  the  sudden  immersion  have 
caused  her  to  faint.  She  will  recover  in  a 
short  time." 

"Give  her  to  me!  Give  her  to  me!  I  will 
carry  her  to  her  room.  Not  dead !  Art  sure 
she  is  not  dead?  Thanks  be  to  the  gods!" 

"Nay,  sir,"  said  Andros,  knowing  that  it 

88 


THE  BITTERNESS  OF  ENVY       89 

was  beyond  the  aged  man's  strength  to  carry 
her  up  the  hill,  "I  will  carry  her  to  the  house. 
Send  thou  a  messenger  ahead  to  have  a  couch 
prepared  for  her.  I  will  carry  her." 

Many  of  the  household  slaves  came  run- 
ning down  to  the  water's  edge  when  they 
heard  of  the  accident.  One  was  sent  to  the 
house  to  have  everything  in  readiness. 
Others  busied  themselves  in  rescuing  the 
slave  girls,  who  were  still  in  the  water. 
Others  were  informed  of  the  Nubians'  dis- 
appearance and  were  told  to  dive  for  them 
and,  if  possible,  rescue  them.  One  body  was 
recovered,  but  life  was  extinct.  The  other 
was  never  seen  again. 

Andros  carried  the  unconscious  form  of 
Lydda  to  the  villa,  and  gently  placed  her  on 
a  couch  in  the  impluvium.  He  was  unwont- 
edly  excited.  He  bent  down  and  was  about 
to  implant  an  impassioned  kiss  on  the  now 
cold  and  impassive  brow  of  the  woman 
he  loved  when  he  became  conscious  of  an- 
other presence  in  the  impluvium.  He 
straightened  himself  to  meet  the  eyes  of 
Aratus. 

He  was  intensely  annoyed  at  the  inoppor- 
tuneness  of  the  meeting.  Seeing  a  cynical 
sneer  on  the  lips  of  his  adversary,  he  could 
have  felled  him  with  a  blow.  Aratus  saw 
danger  in  the  flushed  and  frowning  face,  and 
became  politic  in  his  procedure.  Without 
appearing  hastily  to  get  out  of  the  reach  of 


90       THE  BITTERNESS  OF  ENVY 

danger,  which  he  knew  at  that  moment  lay 
in  Andros'  arm,  he  stepped  backward  a 
couple  of  steps  so  that  the  other,  if  he  in- 
tended to  strike,  would  have  to  reach  far  over 
the  recumbent  girl  to  reach  him.  This  he 
knew  Andros  would  not  do. 

"Thou  art  a  worthy  leech,  and  wouldst 
take  thy  payment  quickly." 

"Thou  art  Hecate's  hound,  and  had  I 
thee  alone,  and  in  different  circumstances,  I 
would  show  thee  what  I  think  of  thee." 

"A  very  hero,  who  are  impatient  lest  thy 
services  go  unrewarded,"  retorted  Aratus, 
who  continued  to  get  farther  away  as  he 
spoke. 

At  that  moment  Mellanides  ran  into  the 
impluvium  from  the  steward's  office  with  a 
silver  plate  on  which  was  burning  some  aro- 
matic gum,  the  smoke  of  which  was  very 
pungent.  He  had  heard  the  last  words  of 
Aratus. 

"What!  what!  you  two  boys  quarreling 
again!  This  is  not  the  time  for  disagree- 
ments. Here,  Aratus,  get  that  feather  fan 
and  waft  the  smoke  towards  my  daughter's 
face." 

Aratus  excused  himself,  saying  that  he 
was  about  to  see  the  pro-consul  to  have  the 
revellers  of  the  barge  arrested  for  murder  in 
case  Lydda  did  not  recover. 

"Farewrell,  sir.  I  haste  to  the  Roman  gar- 
rison. Farewell,.  Andros.  Be  sure  thou 


gettest  thy  pay  for  thy  medical  services.  I 
trust  thee  for  that." 

"Thou  dog  of  Cerberus!"  began  Andros, 
now  furiously  angry,  but  he  was  checked  by 
the  pathetic  look  on  old  Mellanides'  face. 

"Leave  thy  quarrel  for  the  time,  my  friend, 
and  do  thou  assist  me  to  restore  my  daugh- 
ter." 

As  the  young  man  could  not  refuse  the 
appeal,  he  therefore  turned  his  back  on  his 
rival,  not,  however,  before  he  had  said  in  a 
low  but  clear  tone,  distinctly  heard  by  Aratus 
but  not  caught  by  the  old  warrior. 

"Thy  life  shall  be  forfeit  for  this.  Look 
yc  to  it,  I  warn  thee." 

Aratus  was  some  little  distance  away  by 
this  time,  and  so  thought  it  safe  to  snap  his 
ringers  at  Andros.  He  did  this  with  an 
amount  of  bravado,  for  he  was  far  from  being 
courageous.  He  was  a  coward  at  heart,  and 
really  feared  his  adversary.  He  knew  that 
Andros  was  aware  that  the  attention  he  was 
paying  to  Lydda  was  not  the  effect  of  real 
love  for  her,  nor  entirely  disinterested.  The 
fact  was  that  he  was  enormously  in  debt. 
He  knew  that  the  daughter  of  Mellanides 
would  inherit  immense  wealth  of  gold  and 
rich  household  treasures,  as  well  as  house 
and  lands.  As  long  as  he  thought  there  was 
an  equal  chance  with  Andros  to  win  the  heir- 
ess' hand,  he  could  manage  by  profuse  prom- 
ises of  future  gratuities  to  the  Ephesian  Jews 


92       THE  BITTERNESS  OF  ENVY 

to  stand  off  these  money  lenders.  He  was 
not,  therefore,  so  much  in  terror  of  the 
strong  arm  of  Andros — although  he  realized 
that  it  would  be  prudent  to  keep  away  from 
that — as  he  was  of  a  decided  preference  being 
shown  for  him  by  Lydda,  for  in  some  imper- 
ceptible way  his  creditors  learned  almost 
daily  of  the  prospects  and  progress  of  his 
suit. 

By  the  law  of  probabilities  and  by  nice  cal- 
culation the  money  lenders  of  Ephesus  had 
allotted  but  a  short  time  more — only  a  few 
months  at  most — as  the  limit  under  ordinary 
circumstances  of  Mellanides'  life.  They 
knew  that  then,  or  at  least  after  a  brief  sea- 
son of  mourning,  Lydda  would  marry,  and 
they  watched  the  fluctuating  chances  of 
Aratus  as  only  those  can  to  whom  domestic 
happenings  mean  loss  or  gain. 

Aratus  was  aware  that  the  events  of  the 
day  would  be  speedily  conveyed  to  the  ears 
of  his  Jewish  creditors.  He  was  often  puz- 
zled at  their  accurate  knowledge  of  his  do- 
mestic affairs.  He  surmised  that  it  was 
some  slave  who  was  liberally  bribed  to  give 
the  information,  but  he  had  never  succeeded 
in  discovering  which  slave  it  was.  He  was 
sure  that  so  important  an  event  as  the  acci- 
dent would  not  go  untold,  and  he  was  equally 
certain  that  the  informer  would  tell  of  his 
quarrel  with  Andros,  and  he  was  proportion- 
ately vexed  and  anxious. 


THE  BITTERNESS  OF  ENVY      93 

Lydda  was  not  long  in  recovering  from  her 
swoon.  The  pungent  odor  of  the  incense 
smoke  greatly  assisted  in  restoring  her  to 
consciousness,  and  in  less  than  two  hours, 
to  the  intense  joy  of  Mellanides,  she  appeared 
to  be  as  well  as  she  had  ever  been. 


CHAPTER  XI 
GAINING  GROUND 

"You  will  remain  our  guest  for  a  few 
days?"  asked  Mellanides  of  Andros  at  the 
meal  on  the  evening  of  the  accident.  "I  am 
considerably  shaken  by  the  event,  and  do  not 
know  what  evil  effects  will  follow.  I  want, 
just  now,  a  strong  arm  to  lean  upon." 

Notwithstanding  there  was  a  slight  touch 
of  pathos  in  the  old  warrior's  appeal — com- 
ing from  one  who  had  all  his  life  been  so  self- 
sufficient — Andros'  pulse  quickened  at  the 
thought  of  being  for  some  time  near  the 
object  of  his  love.  He  restrained  himself  so 
as  not  to  appear  to  accept  too  eagerly. 

"I  am  getting  old,"  continued  Mellanides, 
"and  if  anything  should  happen  to  me  I  want 
my  daughter  to  be  protected.  When  I  am 
gone,  as  my  friends  have  often  warned  me, 
there  is  a  probability  that  the  priestesses  will 
set  up  some  sort  of  claim  to  my  property. 
You  remember  when  old  Theon  died  how 
they  succeeded  in  securing  his  estate,  leaving 
his  children  in  want.  While  I  live  I  carry 
my  amulet  against  all  their  spells  and  incan- 
tations, and  so  I  am  safe.  When  I  am  gone 
it  may  be  otherwise  with  Lydda.  Will  you 

94 


GAINING  GROUND  95 

look  after  my  daughter's  interests?  When 
I  die  I  leave  this  to  you." 

He  held  up  a  Gorgon's  head  with  round 
chaps  and  wide  mouth,  with  the  tongue 
drawn  out.  It  was  emblematic  of  the  full 
moon.  Mellanides  regarded  it  as  a  preserva- 
tive against  all  evils,  and  always  wore  it.  It 
was  of  blackened  silver  and  was  attached  to 
a  light  chain  of  the  same  material  which  he 
wore  around  his  neck. 

Although  Andros  did  not  place  much  re- 
liance, if  any,  in  the  charm,  he  promised  to 
accept  and  wear  it.  He  regarded  as  much 
more  important  that  Mellanides  should  have 
selected  him  as  a  kind  of  guardian  of  his 
daughter.  This  he  looked  upon  as  a  serious 
trust,  and  he  made  a  secret  vow  that  he 
would  be  faithful  to  the  charge  even  at  the 
cost  of  his  life. 

"Thou  hearest,  O  Lydda,  the  responsibil- 
ity thy  father  places  upon  me?" 

"Hast  thou  not  earned  this  by  right  of  res- 
cuing me  from  death?" 

She  lifted  her  long  graceful  arm  from  the 
cushion  and  reached  towards  him,  as  if  she 
would  once  more  shake  his  hand  in  gratitude 
for  his  heroic  action.  Andros  seized  the  tap- 
ering fingers  and  ardently  pressed  them  to 
his  lips. 

As  he  looked  into  her  eyes  he  thought  that 
there  never  was  a  more  beautiful  maiden 
born.  She  was  tall.  Her  head  had  the  poise 
of  Juno.  Her  features  conformed  to  the 


96  GAINING  GROUND 

truest  Grecian  type,  as  shown  in  a  broad  but 
not  high  forehead  and  straight  nose,  the  deli- 
cately thin  dilating  nostrils  of  which  ap- 
peared to  quiver  with  every  passing  emotion. 
Her  red  lips  were  neither  small  nor  large. 
Full  and  even  teeth  enhanced  a  charm  which 
the  round  curves  of  cheek  and  neck  made 
remarkable  even  among  a  city  of  beautiful 
women.  A  classic  Greek  coil  of  dark  rich 
brown  hair  crowned  her  head,  leaving  the 
small  pearl-pink  ears  uncovered.  A  dash  of 
color  on  a  complexion  of  clear  creamy  soft- 
ness rendered  her  face  extremely  beautiful. 
Her  large  clear  eyes  could  quickly  pierce 
through  deceit,  or  soften  with  compassion. 
She  had  schooled  herself  for  years  to  a 
studied  reserve  as  a  safeguard  in  her  some- 
what difficult  and  isolated  position  as  mis- 
tress of  her  father's  household,  and  yet  her 
pose  always  exhibited  an  unstudied  grace. 

Long  the  two  sat  in  the  gloaming  and 
gathering  darkness  in  the  impluvium.  The 
stars  appeared,  one  by  one,  in  the  steel-blue 
vault  above,  and  still  they  talked  on.  Andros 
told  her  of  his  visit  to  the  temple  with 
Demetrius  and  of  his  impressions  and  disap- 
pointments. He  then  related  to  her  his  ex- 
perience and  flight  for  life.  During  the 
recital  he  saw  that  Lydda  was  visibly  fright- 
ened. She  trembled  for  his  safety  as  the 
story  proceeded. 

"And  how  didst  thou  escape?"  she  asked, 
breathlessly. 


GAINING  GROUND  97 

"I  ran  through  the  woods  at  the  west  end 
of  Mount  Coressus — thou  knowest  the  place 
— and  came  to  the  house  of  Pelopidas.  There 
I  was  received  and  sheltered  until  the  storm 
blew  over." 

"I  thought  Pelopidas  had  lost  his  house," 
said  Lydda,  "being  too  ardent  a  client  of 
Bacchus.  I  am  sure  it  was  so  reported." 

"Yes.  He  is  no  longer  there,  but  the  house 
is  occupied  by  a  good  and  simple  family 
whose  kindness  and  genial  ways  have  quite 
won  my  heart.  They  are  different  from  us 
Ephesians.  They  sheltered  me  and  threw  my 
pursuers  off  the  scent,  declared  they  were 
honored  in  receiving  me  as  their  guest,  and, 
what  is  strangest  of  all,  refused  all  compen- 
sation, hinting  that  in  some  mysterious  way 
they  had  already  been  recompensed.  The 
strangest  part  is  that  with  all  their  friendli- 
ness and  hospitality  they  are  blasphemers, 
for  they  worship  none  of  the  gods — neither 
Venus,  nor  Jupiter,  nor  Diana,  nor  the  em- 
peror— but  as  for  the  last,"  said  Andros, 
laughing,  "I  blame  them  not,  for  none  but  a 
fool  would  ever  acknowledge  him  as  a  god !" 

"Hush !  let  not  my  father  hear  thee.  'Tis 
strange,"  she  mused — "this  thy  experience. 
I,  too,  have  had  a  similar  one." 

"Thou!  thou,  Lydda!  Art  thou  becoming 
an  especial  charge  of  the  gods?  Art  thou 
losing  thy  mind?  Thou!  how  couldst  thou 
arouse  the  anger  of  Demetrius  and  have  to 
flee  before  an  angry  mob  for  thy  life !" 
7 


98  GAINING  GROUND 

Lydda  laughed  musically. 

"Thou  mistakest.  I  mean  that  I  have  had 
a  similar  experience  to  thine  in  meeting  a 
family  to  whom  my  heart  goes  out.  Dost 
thou  remember  our  conversation  concerning 
the  worship  of  Diana  some  time  ago?  Thou 
rememberest  that  thou  wert  disgusted  with 
the  orgies  that  accompanied  her  festivals, 
and  with  the  degraded  men  and  women  who 
serve  at  her  altars  and  with  the  lowest  types 
of  humanity  who  minister  at  the  sanctuary." 

"Well  I  remember!  The  thought  has  been 
with  me  for  a  long  time,  and  it  was  intensi- 
fied when  I  saw  the  great  statue  unveiled  for 
the  first  time  and  looked  upon  a  piece  of 
crude,  barbaric  splendor  rather  than  the  em- 
bodiment of  an  ideal,  which  I  had  expected 
to  find." 

"Thou  once  didst  tell  me  it  was  thy  inten- 
tion to  visit  the  temple.  Since  that  time  I 
have  not  seen  thee.  So  thou  wert  disgusted? 
I  am  not  surprised,  and  I  also  begin  to  doubt 
my  former  assertion  that  the  worship  of  the 
goddess  will  improve  and  elevate  itself. 
How  brutal  was  not  the  running  down  of  my 
little  boat  this  afternoon,  which  might  have 
cost  me  my  life  but  for  thy  assistance,  and 
did  cost  the  lives  of  two  of  our  slaves.  Let 
me  thank  thee  again,  Andros." 

All  this  was  very  pleasant  to  Andros,  but 
he  was  desirous  of  hearing  more  of  the 
strange  people  with  whom  Lydda  had  come 
in  contact. 


GAINING  GROUND  99 

"Tell  me  of  the  experience  thou  sayest  was 
similar  to  mine." 

"A  few  days  ago  I  had  crossed  the  Cays- 
trus  with  the  intention  of  wandering  in  the 
woods  and  gathering  spring  flowers.  I  told 
my  slaves — the  two  poor  men  who  were 
drowned  to-day — to  wait  for  me  on  the 
northern  bank  of  the  river.  I  wandered  far 
into  the  woods,  enjoying  the  singing  of  the 
birds  and  the  flowers.  My  slave  girls  crowned 
me  with  wreaths  of  daffodils  and  called  me 
their  queen.  It  amused  them  and  I  permitted 
it.  We  remained  longer  in  the  woods  than  I 
knew.  Perceiving  that  the  sun  was  on  the 
point  of  dropping  into  the  Icarian  Sea,  I 
arose  hastily,  intending  to  return  to  the  ferry 
at  once.  In  doing  so  I  stepped  upon  a  rolling 
stone  and  sprained  my  ankle." 

"Ah!  wert  thou  wounded  badly?"  inquired 
the  lover. 

"It  was  nothing  serious.  My  slave  girls 
set  up  a  wailing,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  I 
would  hold  them  responsible  for  the  accident 
and  punish  them  later.  Their  cries  attracted 
the  attention  of  some  people  living  near  by. 
Three  women  came  running  through  the 
forest  to  see  what  had  happened.  The 
stoutest  of  the  three  lifted  me  in  her  arms 
and  carried  me  with  ease  to  their  house, 
about  three  hundred  paces  away. 

"The  door  at  once  opened,  and  an  elderly 
looking  woman  said,  'Welcome  in  the  name 
of  God  '  and  I  was  carried  in." 


100  GAINING  GROUND 

"Strange,"  remarked  Andros,  "those  were 
the  same  words  with  which  the  people  in  the 
house  of  Pelopidas  welcomed  me." 

"What  god,  think  you,  meant  they?  Was 
it  Jove,  or  Hercules,  or  that  quasi-divinity, 
our  emperor?" 

"I  know  not.  Didst  see  any  statues  of 
their  divinities?" 

"There  were  none.  Nevertheless,  they 
treated  me  most  kindly.  They  applied  hot 
and  cold  water  to  my  foot  and  rubbed  the 
wounded  ankle,  and  were  most  kind.  On 
leaving  they  insisted  that  I  should  use  their 
vehicle.  Rough  as  it  was  I  could  not  refuse, 
and,  indeed,  it  was  better  than  to  have  to 
walk." 

"They  are  a  kindly  people,"  said  Andros, 
"and  I  thank  them.  They  are  as  good  as 
Elymas  and  his  family.  I  must  see  them." 

"The  strangest  thing  about  it  all,"  con- 
tinued Lydda,  "is  that  when  I  offered  them 
some  gold  from  my  purse,  they  refused. 
Didst  thou  ever  find  our  own  people  refusing 
gold,  Andros?" 

"Nay;  but,  if  thou  remember,  I  told  thee 
that  those  who  sheltered  me  in  my  danger 
also  refused  payment  for  their  services." 

"Thou  must  come  with  me,  and  we  will 
visit  them  together." 

"And  thou  also  must  come  some  day  to  see 
Elymas  and  his  family." 


CHAPTER  XII 
ARACHNE'S  CAVE' 

When  Aratus  left  Andros  in  anger  he 
hastened  directly  south,  past  many  fine  villas, 
until  he  came  to  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  and 
then  to  the  city  wall.  During  his  walk  he 
had  been  thinking  deeply  and  had  devised  a 
plan  by  which  he  thought  he  could  be 
avenged  on  Andros  for  the  threats  he  had 
used  against  him.  Passing  through  the 
northern  gate,  he  wound  his  way  through 
numerous  streets  on  the  east  of  the  city  port 
until  he  came,  near  nightfall,  to  a  tavern  situ- 
ated just  within  the  city  boundary. 

The  wine-shop  was  one  of  the  lowest  of  its 
class  in  Ephesus.  Here  congregated  the 
ruffianly  characters  from  almost  every  nation 
under  the  sun.  It  was  a  rendezvous  for 
criminals  whose  misdeeds  had  not  yet  been 
discovered,  and  of  those  who  knew,  sooner  or 
later,  they  would  be  taken  and  executed  un- 
less they  succeeded  in  gaining  sanctuary. 
Sailors  from  Alexandria  and  Athens,  from 
Syracuse  and  Paphos — the  worst  of  their 
kind — were  there.  Thieves  and  murderers 
of  Ephesus  made  this  tavern  their  meeting- 
place. 

Aratus  knew  of  its  evil  repute.  Stepping 
101 


102  ARACHNE'S  CAVE 

from  the  street  down  four  steps  into  the 
drinking  cellar,  he  called  for  wine.  He  was 
soon  surrounded  by  an  evil  brood.  Some 
felt  their  long  knives,  as  if  to  do  away  with 
him.  More  than  one  gazed,  with  itching 
fingers,  at  the  little  golden  bulla  he  wore  on 
his  breast,  suspended  by  a  thin  golden  chain, 
and  which  was  only  partially  hidden  in  the 
folds  of  his  toga.  The  visitor  was  fully 
aware  of  the  dangerous  character  of  the  men 
into  whose  company  he  had  intruded  himself. 
He  was  also  aware  that  should  he  show  any 
indication  of  fear  for  his  own  safety  that  very 
safety  would  be  greatly  jeopardized.  Seat- 
ing himself  at  a  table,  but  with  the  precau- 
tion of  putting  his  back  to  the  wall,  he  called 
lustily : 

"Ho !  mine  host,  bring  wine  for  these  brave 
men.  And,  as  thou  valuest  thine  head  and 
thy  reputation,  let  it  be  strong,  as  becometh 
brave  men  to  drink." 

There  was  a  general  move  of  satisfaction 
among  the  motley  company.  They  gathered 
around  him  in  apparent  good  will.  It  was 
seldom  a  stranger  of  the  better  class  came  to 
this  tavern,  and  less  seldom  was  one  found 
willing  to  spend  his  gold  for  them. 

"Bring  a  large  ampulla.  I  and  these  brave 
fellows  are  thirsty.  Aye,  brave,"  he '  said, 
turning  to  the  nearest  of  them,  "brave  men! 
Ye  are  such  as  I  like  to  have  for  comrades  in 
a  dangerous  game." 

"What  is  it,  master?     What  is  it?" 


ARACHNE'S  CAVE  103 

"Drink  first,  drink  all,"  said  Aratus,  who 
appeared  at  ease,  but  was  really  hiding  his 
own  fears  under  a  cloak  of  braggadocio  and 
outward  freedom  of  manner  which  was 
merely  assumed.  He  was,  in  reality,  much 
afraid  of  the  knives  and  poniards  of  these 
rough  men.  He  was  glad  when  the  tavern- 
keeper  passed  around  brimming  goblets  of 
rich  Pramnium  wine  which  quickly  produced 
intoxication. 

"Brave  men,"  said  Aratus,  "there  is  not 
one  here  who  would  hesitate  to  slit  a  man's 
throat  from  ear  to  ear?" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  general  assent. 

"'Tis  no  new  trade  among  ye,  I'll  warrant 
me.  Drink,  good  fellows,  for  I  have  work 
for  some  of  ye  tonight." 

While  the  sailors  and  other  frequenters 
of  the  tavern  were  drinking  freely  from  the 
large  jar  of  wine,  which  had  been  placed  on 
the  table  so  that  all  could  dip  out  a  supply 
as  often  as  they  desired,  Aratus  began  to 
study  the  men  before  him.  He  wanted  the 
assistance  of  two  only,  and  he  knew  that  be- 
fore long  most  of  them  would  be  in  a  drunken 
stupor  or  indulging  in  excessive  hilarity,  ac- 
cording to  the  natural  bent  of  character  of 
each.  Before  the  wine  fumes  began  to  affect 
the  brain  he  picked  out  two  sailors  who,  he 
thought,  would  suit  his  purpose.  He  took 
them  aside  to  another  table  and  began  to 
talk  to  them  in  a  low  tone,  having  slipped  a 
gold  piece  into  the  hand  of  each. 


104  ARACHNE'S  CAVE 

One  wore  the  red  woolen  cap  of  a  Cyre- 
nian,  which  was  pulled  down  over  his  ears. 
A  red  sash  held  in  place  a  dark,  rough  sail- 
or's blouse  which  was  ornamented  with  two 
vicious  looking  knives.  The  face  was  cov- 
ered almost  to  the  eyes  with  coarse  black 
hair  which  gave  him  a  ferocious  appearance. 
His  companion  was  fairer  and  did  not  pre- 
sent so  desperate  an  appearance.  His  sun- 
burned features  were  regular,  and  even  the 
hard-faring  life  of  the  sea  had  not  completely 
destroyed  all  traces  of  refinement  in  him. 

"Are  ye  willing,  friends,"  said  Aratus,  "to 
go  with  me  to-night  on  a  perilous  journey?" 

"How  many  of  us  dost  thoa  require?" 
asked  the  fairer  of  the  two. 

"But  you  two." 

"Didst  thou  not  lead  all  here  to  believe 
there  was  work  for  them?" 

"I  did  not  say  I  wanted  them  all.  Few 
of  them  will  be  of  use  in  an  hour.  I  will 
order  another  ampulla  of  wine.  See  how 
that  fellow's  arm  goes  down  into  the  crock 
to  fill  his  horn.  It  must  be  nearly  empty. 
They  will  all  be  asleep  before  long." 

"Be  not  so  sure.  These  seafaring  men 
can  drink  more  deeply  than  thou  thinkest." 

"Well,  we  will  tell  them  that  we  go  to  pre- 
pare work  for  them.  Come." 

Aratus  led  the  two  outside  into  the  cool, 
fresh  night  air,  and  there  told  them  that  he 
wished  them  to  accompany  him  to  the  cave 
of  Arachne. 


ARACHNE'S  CAVE  105 

"Dost  thou  not  fear,"  asked  the  Cyrenian, 
"to  disturb  this  spider's  web — this  Hecate's 
handmaiden?  Knowest  thou  not  that  she 
can  raise  storms  at  sea,  kill  infants  at  the 
breast  with  a  look,  blast  our  crops  and  blight 
our  vines  at  her  will,  if  she  be  angered?" 

"I  care  not  if  she  be  the  goddess  of  hell 
herself  providing  she  do  my  bidding,"  said 
Aratus,  more  bravely  than  he  felt. 

"But,  stranger,  'tis  said  she  hath  a  Cappa- 
docian  bloodhound  that  can  pull  down  the 
largest  man  with  ease." 

"Art  thou,  Libyan,  afraid  of  a  dog  when 
thou  hast  slain  lions  in  thine  own  desert?" 

"No.  I  am  not  afraid  of  anything  I  can 
see,  but  the  witch  hath  powers  over  nature, 
and  demons  do  her  will." 

Aratus  laughed. 

"I  have  a  talisman  by  which  she  will  do 
my  will.  'Tis  bright  and  yellow  and  heavy," 
and  as  he  spoke  he  dexterously  slipped  an- 
other gold  piece  into  the  hands  of  the  Cyre- 
nian, who  answered: 

"As  thou  wilt.  We  will  protect  thee  from 
the  hound.  Thou  must  not  require  us  to 
enter  Arachne's  cave." 

The  eloquence  of  gold  was  successful.  The 
two  men  agreed  to  accompany  Aratus  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave.  The  night  was  very 
dark.  The  journey  was  a  long  one  out  on 
the  road  to  Magnesia.  More  than  once  the 
three  passed  small  bands  of  roving  depreda- 
tors, and  Aratus  was  glad  that  he  had  se- 


106  ARACHNE'S  CAVE 

cured  the  company  of  the  two  stalwart  and 
fearless  sailors,  who  were,  however,  brave 
only  against  known  dangers,  but  the  veriest 
children  in  their  terror  of  the  unknown  or 
supposed  preternatural  powers. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the 
cave  they  were  ready  to  attack  the  great 
bloodhound  should  it  appear,  but  no  per- 
suasion could  induce  the  sailors  to  enter  the 
cave  or  face  the  witch.  Aratus  had,  there- 
fore, to  enter  alone,  a  task  which  he  by  no 
means  relished.  Prompted  by  desire  to  in- 
jure another,  he  made  bold  to  advance  to  the 
entrance  of  the  cave,  the  interior  of  which 
was  partly  lit  up  by  the  deep  red  glow  of 
burning  coals  on  a  low  brazier.  The  earthen 
floor  was  strewn  with  skulls,  the  eye-sock- 
ets of  which  seemed  alive  as  the  small  flame 
of  the  brazier  rose  and  fell.  Dead  newts, 
and  frogs,  and  lizards  were  fastened  to  the 
walls  of  the  cave.  Suspended  from  the  roof 
by  a  string,  hung  head  downward,  a  large 
snake  which  with  rude  taxidermist  skill  had 
been  stuffed  in  the  form  of  a  spiral.  The 
slightest  breeze  set  the  snake  in  motion, 
making  it  appear  as  if  alive.  A  large  blink- 
ing owl  sat  solemnly  on  a  peg  driven  into  a 
crevice  in  the  rock. 

The  most  fearsome  creature  was  the  im- 
mense Cappadocian  hound,  which  at  the 
sound  of  footsteps  approaching  sat  up  on  his 
haunches.  His  head  was  enormous,  his  eyes 
blood-red,  his  lips  pendant  and  running 


ARACHNE'S  CAVE  107 

saliva.  An  unlit  Grecian  earthen  lamp  hung 
from  the  roof  of  the  cave  by  an  iron  chain. 

A  low  rumbling  growl  from  the  dog 
aroused  the  old  woman  from  her  dozing  or 
revery  as  she  sat  with  the  palms  of  her  hands 
toward  the  blazing  coals. 

Horrible  or  dangerous  as  the  huge  animal 
was  felt  to  be,  the  appearance  of  the  witch 
was  calculated  to  inspire  both  fear  and  re- 
pugnance. She  was  extremely  dirty,  but 
through  the  grime  on  her  face  could  be  seen 
an  ashen  color  as  of  the  dead.  Her  eyes, 
sunk  far  back  into  her  head,  burned  with  a 
veiled  glow  of  malice.  There  was  not  a 
grain  of  superfluous  flesh  on  her  face,  which 
bore  the  resemblance  to  a  skeleton,  so  tightly 
was  the  grey  skin  drawn  over  the  bones. 
The  lips  were  so  thin  that  they  appeared  to 
be  merely  parchment  drawn  over  the  teeth, 
which,  however,  were  large  and  well  pre- 
served. This  one  feature,  which  redeemed 
the  face  from  absolute  squalor  and  ugliness, 
had  the  effect  of  adding  to  the  ghastliness  of 
her  appearance.  Long,  bony  fingers,  thick 
at  the  joints,  seemed  to  be  made  for  strang- 
ling. She  was  tall,  and  her  soiled  palla  was 
in  rags. 

Aratus  stood  at  the  opening  of  the  cave, 
trembling  with  fear  of  the  great  mastiff  and 
with  fright  at  the  sight  of  Arachne,  who, 
well  aware  of  his  presence,  crouched  motion- 
less over  the  red  embers.  He  stood  for  some 


108  ARACHNE'S  CAVE 

minutes  speechless,  unable  to  break  the  spell 
which  the  weird  scene  had  cast  over  him. 

"Who  cometh  to  disturb  my  peace?  Who 
dares  enter  the  cave  of  Arachne?  Know  ye 
that  those  who  consult  me  in  my  cave  are 
forever  at  my  bidding?" 

The  young  Ephesian  was  startled  at  the 
tone  of  the  woman's  voice.  It  was  as  strong 
and  deep-chested  as  a  man's,  and  the  wonder 
was  that  a  being  so  old  and  frail  looking 
could  produce  such  a  volume  of  sound.  The 
voice,  unusual  as  it  was,  coming  from  a 
woman,  had  the  effect  of  breaking  the  spell 
under  which  the  visitor  had  been  cast. 

"Call  off  thy  dog,  mother;  I  have  business 
with  thee." 

"Down,  beast,"  she  said,  and  lightly  waved 
her  hand  downward.  The  dog  instantly 
obeyed.  He  crouched  down,  but  kept  his 
red  eyes  glaring  at  the  intruder.  Aratus 
felt  relieved,  yet  he  noticed  that  the  great 
beast  had  advanced  himself,  stealthily  and 
as  if  afraid  of  his  mistress,  several  inches  in 
his  direction. 

The  woman  pointed  to  a  rock  shelf  answer- 
ing the  purpose  of  a  seat.  From  her  posi- 
tion she  could  see  the  face  of  her  visitor, 
while  her  own  was  partially  hidden  in  shad- 
ow. Aratus  sat  down,  but  a  moment  later 
sprang  up  in  horror.  In  front  of  him  he  saw 
for  the  first  time,  in  a  niche  some  six  feet 
from  the  ground,  a  black  oak  statue  of 
Hecate  the  Terrible.  Around  her  head  was 


ARACHNE'S  CAVE  109 

twined  a  wreath  of  snakes  and  in  her  hands 
she  held  bunches  of  vipers,  which  in  the  flick- 
ering firelight  writhed  and  tried  to  escape. 
Others  were  crawling  around  the  foot  of  the 
statue  and  some  were  sliding  down  the  walls 
of  the  cave.  Arachne  saw  the  effect  they 
produced  on  the  mind  of  Aratus. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  coward!  fool!"  she  croaked. 
"Get  thee  gone!  Why  comest  thou  here  if 
thou  art  afraid  of  Hecate's  symbols?  Fool! 
Know  ye  not  they  are  all  dead? — dead  as  I 
shall  be  ere  many  moons.  Ha!  ha!  Thou 
brave  one!  Thou  art  brave,  indeed!" 

Aratus  looked  closer  and  felt  confused  and 
ashamed  when  he  discovered  that  the  vipers, 
like  the  coiling  snake  overhead,  were  the 
product  of  the  taxidermist's  skill.  The  old 
woman  seemed  viciously  to  enjoy  his  discom- 
fiture. The  horror  which  the  incongruous 
setting  of  her  cave  caused  in  her  few  visitors 
seemed  to  be  her  one  species  of  amusement. 
When  she  had  finished  her  raucous  laughter 
and  had  ceased  beating  her  palms  on  her 
knees,  she  once  more  lapsed  into  sullen 
silence.  Aratus  waited  for  a  long  time,  and 
finally  summoned  courage  to  address  her 
again. 

"I  come  for  a  charm." 

"Which  will  kill  thy  rival?"  she  inter- 
rupted him. 

He  was  startled.  How  did  she  know  of 
his  intention? 

"Then    go    thy   way.      Dost    think    that 


110  ARACHNE'S  CAVE 

Arachne  will  commit  murder  for  thy  gold? 
What  are  thy  loves  and  thy  heartaches  to 
her?  Go!" 

"But  listen,  Arachne.  All  Ephesus  knows 
of  thy  skill.  I  ask  not  a  charm  that  will  lose 
for  him  his  life,  but  one  that  will  merely  get 
him  out  of  my  path.  I  have  gold  to  offer 
thee." 

He  displayed  several  pieces  in  his  netted 
purse,  the  sight  of  which  made  the  old  wom- 
an's eyes  glisten  more  balefully  and  her 
bony  fingers  twitch.  Without  speaking  she 
stretched  forth  her  hand.  He  placed  two 
gold  pieces  in  it.  Her  fingers  immediately 
closed  over  the  golden  treasure. 

"Thou  dost  not  want  his  life?" 

"No." 

"But  if  an  overdose  of  the  potion  that  I 
shall  give  thee  should  accidentally  get  into 
his  wine,  thou  wouldst  not  grieve  over- 
much?" 

There  was  an  insinuating  leer  on  her  grey 
face  which  even  to  Aratus  was  repulsive. 

"I  tell  thee,  I  do  not  want  to  take  his  life." 

"Fool!  thou  knowest  thou  dost  lie!" 

She  almost  shrieked  this  last  sentence,  and 
Aratus  was  conscious  that  she  was  speaking 
the  truth.  She  limped  back  to  the  farthest 
recess  of  the  cave  and  took  from  a  small  shelf 
a  box  which  appeared  to  contain  a  prepara- 
tion of  powdered  herbs.  Putting  some  of 
this  into  a  small  vial,  she  filled  it  with  liquid 
resembling  water,  but  which  sent  forth  a 


ARACHNE'S  CAVE  111 

pungent  odor.  In  a  few  minutes  she  drained 
this  off  into  another  vial  and  sealed  it. 

"Three  drops  of  this  in  his  wine — three 
drops,  remember — will  madden  the  brain  to 
frenzy  and  will  cause  a  sickness  from  which 
it  will  take  many  weeks  to  recover.  Mind 
thou  useth  no  more  than  three  drops,"  she 
said  significantly. 

Aratus  understood  perfectly.  He  knew 
that  he  possessed  a  powerful  potion  against 
his  rival,  but  he  had  no  intention  whatever, 
at  this  time,  of  using  more  than  Arachne  had 
prescribed. 

When  he  left  the  cave  he  called  loudly  for 
his  two  seafaring  companions.  There  was 
no  response.  They  had  deserted  him,  either 
through  fear  of  the  dread  Arachne's  presence 
or  of  the  great  bloodhound.  Aratus  was 
compelled  to  travel  back  along  the  Magnesia 
road  into  the  city  amid  perils  more  real  than 
those  of  Arachne's  cave,  for  this  highway 
had  the  reputation  of  being  more  infested 
with  robbers  than  any  of  the  numerous  ways 
of  travel  leading  to  Ephesus.  Aratus  was 
not  much  heartened  for  his  solitary  home- 
ward journey  when,  on  looking  back  for  a 
last  glance  at  the  witch's  cave,  he  saw 
Arachne  at  the  entrance  with  a  lamp  held 
before  her  ghastly  face.  He  was  startled  at 
her  parting  words : 

"Fool!  thou  wilt  loathe  her  yet.  Thou 
wilt  loathe  her  yet." 


CHAPTER  XIII 
ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS 

During  his  stay  at  the  villa,  at  the  request 
of  Mellinades,  Andros  often  asked  himself 
whether  Lydda  had  heard  his  impassioned 
words  as  she  was  sinking  into  the  water. 
He  could  not  decide  whether  she  had  lost 
consciousness  by  the  time  he  arrived. 

Whether  she  had  done  so  or  not,  she  gave 
no  indication,  preserving  the  same  exterior 
platonic  affection  for  him  which  she  had 
shown  since  they  were  children  together. 
He  knew  that  she  was  grateful  to  him  for  the 
rescue,  yet  he  was  quick  to  see  the  difference 
between  gratitude  and  even  incipient  love. 

He  was,  nevertheless,  during  the  time  he 
remained  with  her,  daily  growing  more  con- 
fident of  himself,  and  of  ultimately,  securing 
her  love.  He  took  new  heart,  feeling  that 
he  must  ultimately  be  successful,  yet  pru- 
dently refraining  from  pressing  his  suit  at 
present,  believing  the  time  was  not  pro- 
pitious, or  such  a  course  quite  honorable 
in  view  of  recent  events.  He  was  willing  to 
wait,  reasoning,  and  perhaps  correctly,  that 
such  strong  love  as  his  must  in  time  generate 
in  her  a  reciprocal  affection.  With  these 

112 


ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS  113 

hopeful  thoughts  he  returned  to  his  own 
house. 

The  Artemision  was  now  at  the  height  of 
its  progress.  The  streets,  night  and  day, 
were  noisy  with  the  revellers.  His  own 
house  was  within  five  minutes'  walk  of  the 
great  gymnasium  and  the  public  buildings. 
In  the  quiet  of  his  own  rooms  he  could  hear 
the  roar  and  the  shoutings  and  songs  of  the 
crowds  in  the  streets. 

The  young  Ephesian  was  caught  by  the 
gaiety  and  spirit  of  the  holiday  time,  for  the 
change  from  the  dignified  repose  of  Lydda's 
home  to  the  noise  and  hilarity  of  the  city, 
with  its  merrymaking,  influenced  him 
strongly.  He  still  disapproved  of  the  sen- 
sual nature  of  the  processions,  yet  the  habit 
of  a  lifetime  was  not  easily  overcome.  The 
calm  and  quiet  of  the  house  of  Elymas  had 
deeply  impressed  him,  and  more  than  once 
he  had  thought  that  there  he  would  find  that 
for  which  his  soul  longed;  nevertheless,  it 
was  difficult  to  abandon  the  practices  and 
customs  with  which  he  had  been  familiar 
from  his  earliest  youth.  All  his  life  the  Arte- 
mision had  been  the  great  event  of  the  year 
for  him,  as  it  was  with  all  the  Ephesians.  Its 
attractions  just  now  appeared  to  him  more 
than  ever  alluring. 

He  put  aside  for  the  nonce  the  craving  for 
the  higher  ideals  and  a  purer  worship,  which 
his  reason  told  him  was  the  only  thing  that 
would  satisfy  his  intellect,  and  determined, 


114          ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS 

if  not  to  take  part  in  the  ritual  procession 
that  night,  at  least  to  be  a  witness  of  it — per- 
haps for  the  last  time,  he  told  himself.  He 
no  sooner  determined  than  he  began  to  hesi- 
tate. He  knew  that  Lydda  had  not  attended 
any  of  the  temple  services  or  witnessed  the 
ritual  processions  for  several  years.  Both 
had  agreed  that  they  were,  at  least,  not  ele- 
vating. In  his  prolonged  visit  at  her  house 
they  had  discussed  the  question  again  and 
again,  and  now,  although  there  seemed  to 
be  in  him  a  hunger  for  the  gay  sights  and 
the  wild  and  boisterous  music  of  the  dancers, 
he  felt  that  should  he  once  more  mix  with 
the  throng  he  would  in  some  way  be  a  traitor 
to  himself  and  to  her  whom  he  loved.  His 
better  part,  his  higher  self,  told  him  to 
refrain,  while  the  inferior  nature  in  him 
called  loudly  for  distraction  and  excitement. 
The  lower  call  seemed  the  more  exacting  at 
the  present  moment,  owing,  perhaps,  to  the 
reaction  from  that  higher  plane  on  which  he 
always  lived  when  in  company  with  Lydda. 

Chance  settled  the  question  for  him  in  an 
unexpected  way.  Early  in  the  afternoon 
his  chief  slave  drew  aside  the  arras  of  the 
door  of  his  room  and  announced: 

"Good  master,  Isphar  of  Salamis  in  Cyprus 
desires  speech  with  thee." 

Isphar  was  a  rich  merchant  with  whom 
Andros  had  large  and  lucrative  dealings. 
He  told  the  slave  to  bid  him  enter. 

The  merchant  of  Cyprus  was  a  Persian 


ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS          115 

by  birth,  and  had  retained  the  costume  of 
his  own  country.  As  he  entered  the  room 
Andros  saw  a  man  over  six  feet  in  height, 
with  jet  black  beard  and  hair  and  a  very 
handsome  face.  His  long,  straight  features 
were  browned  with  the  sun,  but  beneath  the 
tan  was  a  rich  red  flush  on  each  cheek.  His 
teeth  were  large  and  very  white,  and  showed 
in  strong  contrast  beneath  his  black  mus- 
tache. He  wore  the  Persian  dress  of  the 
better  class.  On  his  head  was  the  Phrygian 
cap  which,  contrary  to  the  Lydian  custom, 
pointed  backward.  His  tunic  of  plum-color 
silk  had  long,  wide  sleeves  and  was  held  in 
place  by  a  broad  white  belt,  in  which  was  a 
knitted  silk  money  purse  which  partially  hid 
a  rather  broad  dagger  case  embossed  with 
pieces  of  gold  and  a  few  small  gems.  Be- 
neath the  tunic  was  a  short  green  skirt.  He 
wore  plum-color  stockings  and  red  shoes 
slashed  with  yellow  bands. 

With  him  entered  his  umbrella  bearer, 
who  was  dressed  in  a  white,  flowing  tunic, 
with  a  yellow  cap  and  shoes  of  the  same 
color.  The  umbrella  was  made  of  strips  of 
bamboo  and  yellow  paper. 

"Welcome,  Isphar.  Welcome  to  the  city 
of  Diana.  I  am  honored  by  thy  visit.  My 
house  is  thine." 

"May  thy  great  Diana  preserve  thee!  I 
thank  thee  for  thy  hospitality.  I  come  to 
pay  thee  the  money  I  owe  thee  for  the  last 
consignment  of  Pramnium  wine,  and  ver- 


116         ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS 

milion  lead.  Thy  shipmaster  could  have 
brought  thee  thy  gold,  but  from  my  youth 
I  have  had  a  desire  to  witness  the  Ephesian 
Artemision  feastings.  Contrary  winds  de- 
layed us  sailing  these  many  days.  I  trust  I 
am  not  too  late  to  see  some  of  the  festivities." 

"Come  with  me,  good  sir,  to  the  atrium, 
and  we  will  soon  settle  the  business  between 
us.  That  being  over,  thou  art  my  guest  until 
thou  desirest  to  return.  Ho!  Agis,"  he 
called  to  one  of  his  slaves,  "take  the  umbrella 
bearer  with  thee  to  thy  quarters  and  see 
thou  use  him  well." 

On  the  day  of  the  arrival  of  Isphar  the  city 
of  Ephesus  was  quivering  with  excitement. 
It  wanted  but  one  week  to  the  close  of  the 
Artemision,  and  the  populace  seemed  to  be 
intensifying  their  pleasure  as  the  festival 
season  drew  to  a  close. 

All  day  long  and  far  into  the  night  might 
be  heard  the  piercing  shrillness  of  the  flutes 
used  in  the  processions  of  the  Megabyses, 
or  priests,  or  the  harsh  jangling  of  the  crem- 
bala,  those  shallow  metal  cups,  as  they  were 
struck  together  after  the  manner  of  cymbals. 
The  rattle  of  the  crotals,  or  wooden  casta- 
nets, sounded  everywhere,  resembling  in  the 
distance  the  noise  of  heavy  drops  of  rain 
falling  on  an  iron  roof.  Songs  and  shouts 
and  laughter  were  heard  everywhere.  Al- 
ready that  day  Isphar  had  caught  sight  of 
one  of  the  ritual  processions  which  went 
from  the  temple  enclosure  out  into  the  grove 


ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS          117 

of  Diana,  past  the  Port  Panormus,  or  Sacred 
Port.  This  gaudy  affair  was  like  a  rehearsal 
of  what  was  to  come  in  the  evening  after  the 
sun  had  gone  down. 

Upon  landing,  Isphar  was  dazed  and  be- 
wildered by  the  number  and  hurry  and  noise 
of  the  citizens  on  the  streets.  Representa- 
tives of  almost  every  known  nation  mingled 
with  the  inhabitants  and  formed  a  motley 
gathering  of  ever-changing  color.  All  were 
in  high  good  spirits.  Laughter  and  banter 
passed  freely  among  strangers  and  visitors 
as  among  acquaintances.  From  the  noise 
and  confusion  of  it  all  the  traveller  from 
Cyprus  was  glad  to  get  to  the  house  of 
Andros. 

After  a  sumptuous  meal,  when  the  sun 
had  set  in  a  bath  of  fire  in  the  Icarian  sea, 
and  when  the  spring  gloaming  was  rapidly 
turning  to  darkness,  Andros  and  his  guest 
wended  their  way  to  the  northeastern  gate 
which  pierced  the  thick  walls  enclosing  the 
grounds  of  the  great  temple.  Isphar  was 
fain  to  admit  that  the  wonderful  capital  of 
the  pro-consular  province  of  Lydia  bid  fair 
to  rival  the  glories  of  Rome,  which  he  had 
once  visited  in  his  youth.  The  visitor  soon 
realized  that  the  religious  life  of  the  city  was 
engrossed  in  the  cultus  of  Diana.  Its  in- 
fluence was  ecumenical  so  far  as  the  large 
majority  of  the  inhabitants  were  concerned, 
swaying  and  influencing  their  lives,  in  some 
oarticulars  even  down  to  minutest  details. 


118         ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS 

The  two  friends  had  started  out  early, 
Andros  being  desirous  of  showing  his  cus- 
tomer all  that  was  worth  viewing.  By  means 
of  a  goodly  bribe,  they  had  been  taken  by 
one  of  the  eunuch  priests  to  the  living-rooms 
over  the  temple  and  were  given  a  brief 
glance  at  the  "Essen,"  or  chief  priestess  of 
the  Melissae,  or  virgin  priestesses,  who  at- 
tended to  the  services  of  the  mother  of  the 
gods.  The  two  sightseers  had  not  been 
much  impressed,  for  when  the  venal  priest 
had  drawn  aside  the  curtain  of  the  entrance 
for  an  instant,  they  saw  her  lying  listlessly 
on  a  divan  with  a  garland  of  faded  red  and 
white  water-lilies  on  her  head,  her  face 
gaudily  painted,  and  wearing  a  chlamys  of 
white  wool  which  was  much  in  need  of  wash- 
ing. The  Essen  looked  weary  with  the 
weariness  of  death.  The  dinginess  of  her 
costume  helped  to  produce  this  impression. 

Andros  watched  with  interest  the  effect 
this  private  view  at  close  quarters  of  her  who 
would  presently  ride  abroad  through  the  city 
in  a  magnificent  car  would  have  on  Isphar. 
He  was  not  particularly  surprised  to  discover 
that  his  friend  from  Salamis  was  inclined  to 
be  a  little  satirical,  and  even  sceptical  as  to 
the  genuineness  of  the  forthcoming  religious 
procession  as  an  act  of  worship  to  Diana. 

Both  men  were  broad-shouldered  and 
muscular,  and  when  in  the  throng  outside 
the  temple  Isphar  stood  half  a  head  above 
those  surrounding  them.  Although  they 


ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS          119 

were  on  the  peaceful  mission  of  sightseeing, 
Andros  had  warned  the  Cyprian  of  the  fickle 
temper  of  the  sometimes  reckless  gatherings 
on  the  streets  at  the  time  of  the  Artemision. 
He  had  provided  his  guest  with  a  short, 
sharp  Damascus  sword,  and  he  wore  one 
himself.  The  two  walked  about  among  the 
ever-increasing  crowds  until  they  came  to 
the  eastern  gate  of  the  temple  grounds. 

"Canst  tell  me,  stranger,"  said  Isphar  to 
one  of  the  many  who  were  crowding  up  to 
the  gate,  "which  way  the  procession  wends 
to-night?" 

"Stranger!"  replied  •  the  one  addressed, 
"stranger!  thou  art  the  stranger!  I  am  at 
home  in  this  great  city.  Be  careful  how  thou 
speakest.  Thou  art  a  Persian  by  thy  dress, 
but  even  a  fire-worshipper  is  not  allowed  too 
free  a  speech  during  our  Artemision." 

The  burly  visitor  of  Cyprus  was  amused. 
He  could,  with  ease,  take  the  irate  speaker 
and  throw  him  over  the  heads  of  the  now 
densely  packed  throng  gathered  at  the  gate. 

"By  Hercules!  if  thou  art  not  civil — "  be- 
gan Isphar,  as  he  tried  in  the  throng  to  put 
his  hand  on  his  sword. 

He  received  a  warning  pull  of  his  sleeve 
from  Andros,  who  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"Be  careful  of  thy  speech,  Isphar;  these 
people  are  intoxicated  with  pride  of  their 
goddess  just  now.  Remember  thy  dress  pro- 
claims thee  a  stranger." 

"Thou  art  correct,  I  will  be  guarded." 


120          ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS 

Turning  to  the  citizen,  he  said: 

"Friend,  take  no  offense.  I  am  the 
stranger  here,  'tis  true.  I  seek  but  informa- 
tion." 

The  angry  man  appeared  mollified. 

"I  take  no  offense  if  thou  intended  none 
and  gladly  tell  thee  what  I  know.  I  have 
learned  but  now  from  one  of  the  priests  that 
almost  at  once  the  procession  starts  and 
comes  through  this  gate.  Then  it  will  go 
through  the  arches  on  the  north  side  of  the 
city  port,  and  then  on  through  the  suburbs 
to  the  northern  gate.  It  will  wend  its  way 
around  the  stadium,  where  the  last  of  the 
horse-races  will  take  place  to-morrow,  then 
go  through  the  agora  civilis  and  by  the  great 
gymnasium.  Passing  through  the  other 
agora,  it  will  come  back  to  the  temple  by 
way  of  the  colonnade  on  the  south  of  the 
city  port.  When  the  procession  leaves  the 
great  agora,  fires  are  to  be  lighted  at  num- 
berless points  on  the  city  side  of  Mount 
Coressus.  The  sight  will  be  worth  thy  view- 
ing. Great  is  Diana!  Thou  art  very  for- 
tunate, O  Persian,  to  see  the  last  great  pro- 
cession of  the  year." 

"We  thank  thee  for  the  information,"  said 
Isphar.  "Can  we  find  a  better  vantage 
ground  than  this?" 

"Come  ye  both  with  me,"  said  the  erst- 
while angry  citizen,  and  he  began  to  push 
his  way  through  the  dense  gathering.  "I 
am  well  known  here,  and  as  thou  desirest  to 


ISPHAR  OF  SALAMIS          121 

tell  the  glories  of  our  city  when  thou  return- 
est  to  thine  own  country,  I  can  serve  thee. 
Seest  thou  that  base  of  the  porphyry  column 
yonder?  It  is  yet  unoccupied.  It  will  cost 
thee  some  silver,  but  doubtless  ye  both  will 
gladly  pay  for  the  privilege,  on  such  a  night 
as  this,  of  being  high  above  the  heads  of  the 
people." 

When  the  three  reached  the  unoccupied 
square  base  of  the  pillar,  Andros  put  three 
silver  coins  in  the  outstretched  hand  of  a 
minor  functionary  of  the  temple,  who  imme- 
diately placed  a  short  ladder  in  such  a  po- 
sition that  Andros,  Isphar  and  their  guide 
could  without  difficulty  take  their  positions 
on  the  upper  flat  surface  of  the  block. 

From  their  elevated  position  they  could 
observe  nearly  the  whole  enclosed  area  be- 
longing to  the  temple.  For  the  space  of 
three  hundred  feet  in  every  direction  could 
now  be  seen  a  densely  packed  sea  of  heads. 
At  their  first  view  of  the  throng,  all  faces 
were  turned  towards  the  temple  door,  which 
had  just  been  thrown  open.  All  were  strain- 
ing their  eyes  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  head 
of  the  procession  emerge  from  the  temple, 
but  for  the  present  no  one  appeared.  Dur- 
ing the  delay  Andros  and  his  friend  had 
leisure  to  study  the  immense  throng. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  ARTEMISION 

Many  Roman  visitors,  distinguishable  by 
the  whiteness  of  their  togas,  were  present 
to  witness  the  last  of  the  great  processions 
of  the  season.  In  marked  contrast  to  these 
were  Sarmatian  soldiers  in  tight-fitting  scale 
armor.  Others  wore  buff  leather  tunics 
with  green  skirts.  Everywhere  could  be 
seen  the  Phrygian  cap  which  was  the  na- 
tional headdress  of  all  the  Asian  provinces — 
Mysia,  Lydia,  Caria,  as  well  as  Phrygia 
itself.  The  common  costume  of  the  Lydians 
was  a  yellow  cap  and  a  bright  yellow  tunic 
reaching  to  the  knee,  over  which  was  worn 
on  festival  days  a  scarlet  cloak.  Dacians 
were  there,  naked  from  the  waist  up,  except 
for  a  brown  cloak  of  coarse  cloth.  Many 
Persians  of  rank  had  gained  entrance  to  the 
enclosure.  The  warriors  wore  a  towered 
cylindrical  head  covering,  with  loose  gar- 
ments of  white  clasped  by  a  golden  girdle. 
Here  and  there  could  be  seen  the  silver- 
scaled  tight  tunic  which  shone  and  glittered 
in  the  light  of  the  torches.  Many  a  travel- 
ling Greek  in  the  throng  wore  the  brown 
toga  virilis.  A  Roman  officer's  high  brass 
helmet,  with  its  red  comb  of  horsehair,  was 

122 


THE  ARTEMISION  123 

a  conspicuous  object  as  its  wearer  moved 
among  the  throng.  The  Greek  philosopher 
was  distinguished  by  his  brown  cloak  and 
dull  blue  tunic  beneath. 

On  these  occasions  of  festivity  the  women, 
of  whom  there  were  a  large  number  present 
in  the  enclosure,  and  also  the  men  of  Ephe- 
sus,  wore  ornamented  tunics  of  different  col- 
ors, light-grey,  pink,  crimson,  blue,  white 
and  yellow,  the  latter,  however,  being  the 
predominant  color.  Here  and  there  could 
be  seen  the  Ephesian  nobleman  with  the  lib- 
erty cap  ornamented  with  golden  knops  and 
ear-lappets.  The  highly  embroidered  tunic 
and  close-fitting  trousers  in  red  and  white 
lozenge-shape  -design,  caused  the  wearers 
to  receive  a  certain  amount  of  deference  from 
the  people. 

In  contrast  with  the  uncouth  and  un- 
trimmed  beards  of  the  Parthians  were  the 
Greeks,  who  took  extreme  care  of  their 
beards,  dressing  and  curling  them  with 
heated  irons,  so  that  in  many  cases  they  re- 
sembled the  regularity  of  a  honeycomb. 
Country  people,  sightseeing,  wore  the  skins 
of  animals  across  the  left  shoulder,  leaving 
the  ri,eht  arm  bare.  In  a  few  cases  could  be 
distinguished  the  dull  gaberdine  of  the  Jew, 
who,  forgetful  of  his  religion,  or  impelled  by 
an  overmastering  curiosity,  mixed  with  a 
people  devoted  to  the  worship  of  a  strange 
god,  or  salved  his  conscience  with  the  plea 


124  THE  ARTEMISION 

that  it  was  necessary  to  take  some  wealthy 
customer  to  the  sightseeing. 

Shouts  and  good-natured  laughter  and 
songs,  with  the  roar  of  a  multitude  of  mov- 
ing feet,  filled  the  air  with  an  avalanche  of 
sound.  Tall  flambeaux  fixed  on  the  walls 
and  pillars  of  the  ambulacrum,  and  number- 
less tall  pine  torches  in  and  around  the  tem- 
ple itself,  shed  a  weird  and  not  very  adequate 
light  over  the  immense  gathering.  The  dust, 
caused  by  the  movement  of  many  feet  on 
the  pavement,  rose  in  clouds  and  penetrated 
the  throat  and  lungs  of  the  three  standing 
on  the  base  of  the  column. 

"  'Tis  a  wonderful  sight — this  gathering," 
said  Isphar,  "but  methinks  that  if  I  were  a 
Roman  I  should  be  unfaithful  to  Bacchus 
were  I  to  remain  here  much  longer.  I  fain 
would  worship  even  now  with  a  skin  of 


wine." 


He  began  to  stoop  down,  as  if  to  look  for 
the  ladder  by  which  to  descend  from  his 
elevated  position. 

"Wait!  wait!  my  impatient  fire-worship- 
per," said  the  voluntary  guide,  "wait  a  few 
minutes  more,  for  the  procession  cannot  de- 
lay much  longer.  See!  see!  they  are  fasten- 
ing the  oxen  to  the  sacred  car  even  now. 
It  is  to  bear  the  mother  of  the  gods.  See 
how  the  beasts  are  garlanded  with  wreaths ! 
How  their  golden  horns  shine  in  the  light 
of  the  torches!" 

The  guide  appeared  to  take  the  keenest 


THE  ARTEMISION  125 

pleasure  in  the  minutest  details  of  the  re- 
ligious observance.  As  he  spoke,  a  move- 
ment of  the  vast  throng  in  the  court,  and 
especially  of  those  near  the  temple,  was 
observed. 

"Do  not  now  give  up  your  vantage  point," 
said  Andros,  "for  the  procession  must  pass 
in  front  of  us  in  order  to  go  through  the 
gate  here  into  the  city." 

Isphar,  impatient  of  restraint  as  he  was, 
saw  that  he  held  a  particularly  advantageous 
position,  and  notwithstanding  his  thirst, 
decided  to  remain. 

Meanwhile,  a  company  of  temple  guards 
had  come  down  the  ten  steps  of  the  temple, 
and  began  to  clear  a  way  for  the  procession. 
They  were  tall,  strong  men,  far-eastern  Asi- 
atics, and  their  high  cylindrical  hats  made 
them  appear  taller.  Each  carried  a  long 
staff  or  a  good  stout  cudgel,  and  seemed  to 
know  how  to  use  it.  A  similar  company 
issued  from  the  western  door  behind  the 
altar  of  Diana,  through  which  Andros  had 
previously  escaped.  The  two  companies 
worked  towards  each  other  on  the  north  side 
of  the  temple  and  soon  cleared  a  way. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  ritual  procession  be- 
gan to  move  in  the  direction  of  the  gate  near 
which  Andros  and  Isphar  were  standing. 
First  came  the  guards,  dressed  in  Persian 
fashion.  These  interested  Isphar  very  much, 
for  although  a  native  of  Cyprus,  he  was  of 
Persian  parentage  and  wore  the  national 


126  THE  ARTEMISION 

dress.  The  long  coats  of  the  guards  reached 
to  the  feet  and  were  of  various  striped  colors. 
In  some  instances  the  stripes  ran  longitudi- 
nally, in  others  horizontally.  In  front  of  the 
high  cylindrical  hat  each  wore  a  large  cres- 
cent-shaped piece  of  metal,  either  of  brass  or 
silver.  It  constituted  the  badge  of  servitude 
to  the  temple  of  Diana  Luna. 

These  were  followed  by  about  fifty  Ephe- 
sian  youths  of  good  families,  in  their  tight- 
fitting  national  costume,  but  without  cloaks. 
They  wore  tight-fitting  trousers  reaching  to 
the  ankles  and  close  vests  with  sleeves  which 
reached  to  the  wrists.  Many  were  dressed 
in  party  colors,  one  leg  and  the  opposite  side 
of  the  upper  portion  of  the  garment  being 
of  one  color,  and  the  corresponding  parts  of 
another.  In  other  cases,  the  left  side  was 
one  color  and  the  right  another.  White  and 
black,  green  and  pink,  brown  and  grey,  black 
and  yellow,  were  some  of  the  combinations 
of  colors  of  the  dresses  of  this  company  of 
dancers. 

Immediately  behind  them  were  about 
three  dozen  musicians,  the  throbbing  of 
whose  drums  and  the  crash  of  whose  brass 
crembalae  sounded  wildly  above  the  shout- 
ing and  hurrahing  of  the  throng.  The  shrill 
call  of  the  flutes,  the  rattle  of  the  castanets 
and  the  striking  of  the  tambourines,  added 
rather  to  the  noise  than  to  the  music  of  the 
procession.  The  crude  drums  were  made  of 
partially  cured  hides  stretched  over  a  frame- 


THE  ARTEMISION  127 

work  of  wood.  They  were  beaten  without 
intermission.  The  music  produced  was  bar- 
baric and  maddening,  and  appeared  to  be  an 
incentive  to  the  unbridled  license  of  the 
night. 

Behind  these  musicians  came  the  first 
company  of  corybantes,  or  dancing  girls. 
Their  eyes  were  brightened  and  made  to 
appear  larger  by  a  liberal  use  of  lead.  Their 
cheeks  were  painted  with  a  brilliant  red  pig- 
ment found  in  abundance  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Ephesus.  Many  of  these  corybantes 
wore  crowns  of  water-lilies.  Some  wore  one 
large  blossom  over  each  ear.  The  more 
active,  or,  correctly,  the  more  violent,  of  the 
dancers  of  this  group  provided  themselves 
with  artificial  lilies.  The  hair  was  loose  and 
rose  and  fell  in  waves  as  they  danced.  The 
costumes  of  the  dancing  girls  were  Greek 
in  design.  The  dress  was  parted  at  the  knee, 
being  held  in  position  there  by  golden 
buckles.  Fastened  at  the  waist,  shoulders, 
and  to  the  bracelets  at  the  wrists,  were  ample 
folds  of  the  muslin  of  Cos,  which,  when  the 
arms  were  waved  about  in  the  gyrations  of 
the  dance,  resembled  the  graceful  fluttering 
of  a  butterfly's  wings. 

The  priests,  who  came  next,  were,  in 
reality,  a  scurvy  looking  set.  By  their  ap- 
pearance they  amply  bore  out  the  general 
impression  of  the  criminality  which  was  at- 
tached to  their  name  and  office.  They  ap- 
peared unkempt  and  uncouth.  Their  beards 


128  THE  ARTEMISION 

were,  generally,  long  and  untidy,  their  robes 
unclean.  Their  appearance  added  nothing 
to  the  aesthetic  value  of  the  procession.  They 
were,  in  fact,  in  the  worship  of  Diana,  merely 
secondary  functionaries,  and  their  presence 
at  the  rites  was  perfunctory.  The  real  gov- 
erning power  and  all  the  authority  of  the 
temple,  rivalling  the  civic  authority,  and  to 
some  extent  even  the  pro-consular — lay,  not 
with  the  priests,  but  with  the  arch-priestess, 
or  Essen. 

The  distinctly  aesthetic  portion  of  the  rit- 
ual procession  was  found  in  the  symbol 
bearers,  who  immediately  preceded  the  high 
priestess.  Among  this  group  were  fisher- 
men bearing  nets  and  fish;  hunters  with  bow 
and  quiver,  and  some  wearing  antlers  on 
their  heads;  children  carrying  baskets  of 
fruit;  young  women  representing  nymphs 
from  the  forests  and  streams.  Some  young 
women  wore  on  the  head  a  crescent-shape 
moon  of  silver  from  which  flowed  a  silver- 
spangled  veil,  completely  enveloping  the 
person.  Others  wore  a  silver  disc;  others  a 
black  disc,  each  representing  some  phase  of 
the  moon,  which  was  worshipped  as  Diana 
the  world  over. 

Many  others  wore  masks  to  represent  the 
attendants  who  are  supposed  to  surround 
the  goddess  whom  they  served.  Fauns, 
satyrs,  monstrous  beings  and  men  represent- 
ing winged  genii — all  danced  before  the  tri- 
umphal car  of  the  Essen. 


THE  ARTEMISION  129 

Others  represented  abstract  feelings  by 
means  of  large  masks.  Joy,  laughter,  grief, 
dignity,  vulgarity  were  represented  in  this 
way,  the  artificial  faces  being  works  of  no 
inconsiderable  artistic  merit.  The  comic  was 
largely-in  evidence,  and  these  seemed  to  take 
the  popular  fancy.  Besides  a  number  of 
tragic  masks,  there  were,  in  this  large  group 
of  mummers,  those  who  wore  masks  sup- 
posed to  represent  portraits  of  living  or  dead 
personages.  The  thrysus,  or  spear,  carried 
by  many  persons  in  this  group  was  merely  a 
reed.  By  this  arrangement  the  frenzy  of 
the  devotees  was  rendered  harmless  when 
the  dancing  became  orgiastic. 

Immediately  following  this  group  of  sym- 
bol bearers  came  the  white,  garlanded  car  of 
the  high  priestess.  She  was  a  tall  woman 
and  appeared  taller  by  the  device  of  a  high- 
turreted  golden  crown,  from  which  fell  a 
thin  silver  veil,  flowing  over  a  rich  purple 
robe  which  reached  to  her  feet.  She  was 
seated  on  a  white  throne  and  carried  a 
sceptre  of  gold  tipped  with  a  silver  crescent 
moon.  Around  her  chariot  were  grouped  a 
large  number  of  Melissse,  or  priestesses,  and 
many  dancing  girls. 

The  musicians  who  preceded  the  car 
which  contained  a  statue  of  Diana  produced 
a  higher  grade  of  music.  Some  carried  the 
phorminx,  or  large  lyre;  others,  the  cithara, 
or  smaller  lyre;  others,  again,  had  lyres  made 
of  tortoise-shell  and  called  the  chelys.  These 


130  THE  ARTEMISION 

were  struck  without  the  plectrum.  The  bar- 
bitos  supplied  the  bass.  This  company  of 
players  produced  sweet  but  by  no  means 
loud  music.  In  this  group  of  the  choicest 
temple  musicians  the  flutes,  cymbals  and 
drums  were  missing. 

The  statue  of  Diana  used  in  the  outdoor 
processions  was  not  so  large  as  the  one  kept 
behind  the  purple  veil,  which  had  caused  so 
much  disgust  and  disappointment  to  Andros, 
but  was  a  much  more  beautiful  work  of  art. 
On  these  occasions  it  was  adorned  with  the 
most  costly  raiment.  It  was  carried  on  a 
cart  drawn  by  a  black  and  a  white  ox,  sym- 
bolical of  the  full  and  dark  of  the  moon. 

This  statue  was  given  Diana's  Greek  name 
of  Artemis,  who  was  regarded  as  having  the 
power  to  cure  diseases.  Sometimes  it  was 
designated  Apis,  from  the  beauty  of  her 
countenance.  The  head  and  bust  were  of 
purest  alabaster.  The  former,  on  this  occa- 
sion, was  crowned  with  a  golden  circlet,  from 
which  was  pendant  a  thin  white  veil  which 
fell  over  a  golden  chlamys  fastened  at  the 
shoulder  with  a  jewelled  clasp.  Beneath  the 
chlamys  was  a  long  tunic  of  imperial  pur- 
ple, and  beneath  it  was  a  robe  of  cloth-of- 
gold  reaching  to  the  feet.  Each  hand  was 
supported  with  a  golden  rod,  which  helped 
to  keep  the  statue  steady  on  the  car  when 
the  oxen  became  restive.  In  the  bracelets 
and  armlets  and  in  the  golden  circlet  were 


THE  ARTEMISION  131 

innumerable  jewels  which  glistened  in  the 
light  of  the  torches. 

As  the  sacred  car  passed  along,  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  people  seemed  to  break  all 
bounds.  Men  and  women  raised  their  hands 
on  high  and  shouted:  "Great  is  Diana!  O 
Artemis,  hear  us  and  cure  our  ills!" 

During  the  Artemision  festival  there  ap- 
peared certain  mock  personages  represent- 
ing the  gods.  These  followed  in  the  wake 
of  Diana,  as  if  to  give  her  supreme  honor  in 
her  city  of  Ephesus.  In  the  games  in  honor 
of  Jupiter  at  Antioch  these  mock  deities  re- 
ceived divine  honors,  and  there  was  some- 
thing very  similar  practiced  at  Ephesus. 

Behind  the  sacred  car  of  Diana  rode  a 
mock  Jupiter,  who  during  the  whole  month 
of  the  festivities  did  not  go  home,  or  recline 
upon  a  bed,  but  slept  upon  the  ground  in  the 
open  air,  on  stones,  or  on  a  clean  rug  or  rush 
mats.  This  mock  deity  was  surrounded  by 
attendants.  He  wore  a  robe  as  white  as 
snow  and  glittering  with  golden  ornaments. 
On  his  head  was  a  crown  of  carbuncles, 
pearls  and  other  precious  stones.  He  car- 
ried a  wand  of  white  ivory  and  wore  white 
sandals. 

A  mock  Apollo  was  robed  in  white,  wear- 
ing a  credemon,  or  crown  of  golden  laurel 
leaves.  A  Mercury  was  similarly  clad  in  a 
white  silk  robe,  and  with  a  similar  crown  of 
laurel. 

Behind  these  came  young  women  bearing 


132  THE  ARTEMISION 

ivy  and  vine  branches  in  honor  of  Bacchus, 
branches  of  poplar  to  represent  Hercules, 
bunches  of  wheat  ears  as  typical  of  Ceres, 
sprays  of  myrtle  for  Venus,  fir  twigs  for  the 
fauns  and  sylvans,  and  reeds  to  represent  the 
river  gods. 

After  these  came  more  corybantes  and 
musicians.  This  last  band  of  players,  like 
those  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  seemed 
to  care  more  for  noise  than  for  music.  The 
sound  of  their  rude  drums,  and  the  shrill 
syrinx,  or  Pan's  flutes,  aroused  the  populace 
to  a  delirium  of  madness. 

During  the  passing  of  the  procession 
Ishpar  became  more  and  more  excited. 
When  the  last  of  the  corybantes  had  danced 
past  the  pedestal  on  which  the  three  were 
standing,  he  begged  Andros  to  come  with 
him  to  the  agora,  or  the  gymnasium,  or  some 
other  place  where  he  could  view  it  all  again. 
Andros  excused  himself,  saying  that  early 
in  the  morning  he  had  to  go  to  the  Silenusian 
lakes  to  look  after  his  fishing  interests,  but 
recommended  the  guide  who  had  procured 
them  their  elevated  position. 

"Thou  knowest  my  house,"  he  said  to  the 
guide;  "bring  back  my  friend  Ishpar  and 
thou  shalt  be  rewarded." 

"I  will  not  trouble  thee  or  thy  Ephesian 
guide,"  said  the  visitor  from  Cyprus,  who 
was  offended  at  the  refusal  of  Andros,  "I  can 
find  my  way  alone.  In  the  morning  send  my 
umbrella  bearer  to  the  ship  by  which  I  re- 


THE  ARTEMISION  133 

turn.  When  thou  comest  to  Salamis  thou 
shalt  receive  more  hospitable  entertain- 
ment." 

He  was  going  to  separate  himself  from 
Andros  in  a  fit  of  ill-temper. 

"Stop!  stop!  my  friend.  No  Ephesian, 
during  Diana's  festival,  will  allow  a  charge 
of  that  nature.  Withdraw  it,  or  thou  wilt 
force  me  to  go  with  thee  at  my  great  incon- 
venience, for  I  have  many  fishermen  to  look 
after  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"As  thou  wilt,  O  ship-owner,  but  haste 
thee  in  thy  decision.  The  last  of  the  dancers 
have  passed  out  of  the  temple  grounds." 

Andros,  seeing  that  the  Cyprian  was 
wholly  infatuated  with  the  sights  of  the  eve- 
ning and  would  probably  follow  the  proces- 
sion around  the  city  until  it  returned  to  the 
temple  precincts,  asked  the  guide  whether 
he  would  be  willing  to  accompany  the 
stranger.  The  man  agreed. 

"Take  good  care  of  him.  Remember  the 
town  is  full  of  deceits.  Here  is  money  to 
secure  the  best  positions.  Thou  knowest 
my  house.  Bring  him  safely  home.  He  will 
never  find  his  way  there  by  himself.  When 
thou  comest,  thou  mayest  sleep  in  the  atrium 
until  morning,  when  I  will  pay  thee  well  for 
thy  trouble." 

Turning  to  Isphar,  he  said:  "Be  not 
angry,  my  welcome  friend.  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  accompany  thee  farther.  This 


134  THE  ARTEMISION 

guide  will  show  thee  all,  and  my  steward 
shall  receive  thee  when  thou  returnest." 

The  merchant  of  Salamis  was  by  this  time 
a  little  ashamed  of  his  petulant  manner.  The 
metropolis  of  Asia  was  a  large  city.  The 
noise  and  hurry  of  its  inhabitants,  whether 
on  business  or  pleasure  bent,  had  excited 
him  all  day.  Not  until  the  shouting  ceased 
and  there  was  comparative  quiet  in  the  tem- 
ple precincts  did  he  realize  that  he  had 
spoken  somewhat  ungraciously  to  his  host. 

"Forgive  me  my  hasty  tongue,  good  mine 
host.  'Twere  ungracious  not  to  recognize 
thine  hospitality.  I  will  go  with  this  young 
man,  and  in  the  morning  I  will  thank  thee 
again." 

Isphar  and  the  guide  descended  from  the 

marble  block  and  hurried  forward  to  over- 

.take  the  procession.     Andros  waited  until 

the  crowd  had  thinned  somewhat  and  then 

walked  thoughtfully  towards  his  house. 


CHAPTER  XV 
STILL  IN  THE  DARK 

The  traveller  from  Salamis  did  not  return 
that  night  to  the  house  of  Andros.  Long 
after  daylight  the  next  morning  the  guide  to 
whom  he  had  been  entrusted  came  to  Andros 
and  told  him  that  Isphar  had  partaken  very 
freely  of  wine  on  several  occasions  during 
the  evening,  and,  as  the  night  advanced,  be- 
came disputatious,  refusing  to  come  back  to 
the  house  of  his  host,  but  insisting  on  being 
guided  to  the  vessel  in  which  he  had  sailed. 

"I  will  then  postpone  my  visit  to  the  lakes 
and  go  to  the  city  port  and  see  after  the  com- 
fort of  my  guest." 

"That  will  avail  thee  little  for  hours  to 
come,"  replied  the  guide,  "for  it  was  long 
after  dawn  before  Isphar  was  safely  on  the 
sailing  vessel.  I  warrant  me  he  will  sleep 
soundly  until  the  sun  sinks  into  the  western 
sea." 

"Was  he  very  drunk?" 

"So  much  so,"  said  the  other,  laughing, 
"that  although  he  could  sit  in  the  boat  safely 
enough,  when  we  arrived  at  the  vessel's  side 
he  was  incapable  of  climbing  the  ladder.  I 
called  to  the  sailors,  who  recognized  him, 
and  four  of  them  lifted  him  to  the  deck. 

135 


136          STILL  IN  THE  DARK 

There  he  lies  now  on  a  sail,  so  fast  asleep 
that  Jove's  thunder  would  not  rouse  him." 

"Go  back  to  the  vessel,"  said  Andros,  "and 
tell  the  captain  to  be  careful  of  his  comfort. 
Let  him  rig  a  sail  for  shade.  Tell  him  to 
supply  him  with  good  wine  when  he  awak- 
ens, and  send  a  messenger  to  me  when  that 
occurs." 

While  waiting  for  the  messenger,  Andros 
thought  deeply  and  long  over  the  preceding 
night's  procession  and  the  orgies  which  he 
knew  had  followed. 

Never  had  the  city  been  more  enthusiastic 
over  the  spring  festival,  and  never  had  there 
appeared  greater  indecencies  on  the  streets. 
The  whole  populace  seemed  to  have  given 
itself  over  to  one  vast  orgy.  As  he  slowly 
wended  his  way  homeward  amid  the  eddy- 
ing crowds  of  men  and  women,  he  had  seen 
but  few  sober  people  on  the  streets.  Ribald 
songs  and  excesses  offended  the  eye  and  ear. 

Andros  was  more  disgusted  than  ever  with 
it  all.  He  was  ill  at  ease  with  himself. 
Something  was  stirring  within  him  the  like 
of  which  he  had  never  experienced  before. 
There  was  an  awakened  feeling  in  his  breast, 
but  it  was  wholly  condemnatory,  and  he  did 
not  understand  it.  Never  before  had  the 
still,  small,  persistent  voice  been  so  loud. 
The  acquaintance  with  the  family  of  Elymas 
had  opened  up  to  his  mind  the  possibility  of  a 
new  way  of  living,  which  he  admitted  was 
more  consistent  with  the  dictates  of  reason 


STILL  IN  THE  DARK          137 

than  the  life  he  had  hitherto  followed, 
although  that  had  been,  perhaps,  above  the 
average  of  the  morality  of  the  citizens  of 
Ephesus,  especially  in  integrity  and  in  clean- 
ness of  life. 

But  why  should  the  being  present  at  the 
ritual  procession — an  action  which  he  had 
performed  ever  since  he  was  old  enough  to 
be  alone  on  the  streets — why  should  the 
being  present  on  this  particular  occasion 
cause  him  so  much  uneasiness?  Was  his 
love-sickness  causing  him  to  become  woman- 
ish? Womanish!  Had  there  not  been  as 
many  women  on  the  streets  as  men  on  the 
previous  night?  Did  not  the  women  of 
Ephesus,  during  the  festival,  vie  with  the 
men  in  excesses  in  the  so-called  honoring  of 
Diana? 

Was  he  becoming  morbid?  he  asked  him- 
self. This  regret  in  his  breast  was  an  actual 
thing  to  him,  and  do  what  he  would  he  could 
not  get  rid  of  the  new  experience.  "Pshaw !" 
he  said  to  himself,  "I  am  an  Ephesian.  I 
have  been  brought  up  in  the  cultus  of  Diana. 
Am  I  going  to  give  it  up?  What  was  good 
enough  for  my  forefathers  is  surely  good 
enough  for  me.  All  these  recent  thoughts 
are  mere  foolishness.  I  will  go  to  the  temple 
and  offer  incense,  and  then  my  mind  will  be 
once  more  at  ease." 

He  started  out  in  the  direction  of  the  tem- 
ple, his  mind  full  of  conflicting  thoughts. 
He  walked  slowly,  with  bent  head,  and  ob- 


138          STILL  IN  THE  DARK 

servant  of  little.  Suddenly  he  was  vaguely 
conscious  of  some  one  shouting.  Pulling 
himself  together  with  an  effort,  he  realized 
that  the  shouting  was  directed  at  him. 

"Justice!  justice!  pay  me  for  my  loss! 
'Twas  thou  that  overthrew  my  basket  of 
cakes  and  sweet  paste.  Pay!  pay!  or  I  shall 
take  thee  before  the  tribunal." 

Andros  realized  that  it  was  the  old  cake- 
seller  whom  he  had  upset  when  escaping 
from  the  temple  two  weeks  before.  A  flash 
of  amusement  crossed  his  face  at  the  remem- 
brance of  the  catastrophe  that  had  befallen 
the  ragged  old  vendor. 

"Pay!  pay!  I  have  sought  thee  every- 
where. Now  I  have  thee.  If  thou  payest 
not  for  my  loss,  thou  goest  straight  to  the 
city  chancellor." 

"Canst  thou  prove  it  was  I?"  asked 
Andros,  good  humoredly. 

"That  can  I.  I  know  thee  well — Andros 
the  fish  merchant  and  owner  of  ships.  Times 
are  changed  indeed  from  thy  father's  time. 
He  would  not  have  used  an  old  man  so." 

"Didst  thou  know  him?" 

"Aye,  aye;  a  good,  kind  man  to  such  as  I. 
But  thou  payest  for  my  loss." 

"Wait  one  moment,  friend.  Canst  thou 
prove  that  I  was  the  cause  of  it?" 

"Surely  I  can.  Didst  thou  not  knock  the 
basket  from  my  head  and  send  my  wares  to 
the  dust?" 

"Thou  sayest  that  I  did.    Art  thou  sure?" 


STILL  IN  THE  DARK          139 

"Of  course  I  am  sure.  Do  not  all  men 
know  thee  in  Ephesus?" 

"Well,  that  may  be  so.  But  canst  thou 
prove  that  I  was  responsible  for  thy  loss?" 

"Responsible!  By  the  great  goddess! 
Thou  didst  it,  didst  thou  not?" 

"That  is  not  the  question.  Was  I  respon- 
sible for  the  doing?" 

The  angry  old  street  merchant  seemed  a 
little  puzzled.  He  paused  a  minute  in  his 
urgent  demands,  as  if  to  settle  the  responsi- 
bility in  his  mind. 

^ 

"Thou  sawest  me  coming — running  very 
fast.  Did  I  not  beckon  to  thee  to  stand  out 
of  the  way?  Others  gave  me  clear  space. 
Thou  wert  either  too  perverse  or  too  stupid 
to  do  the  same." 

"But  I—" 

"Wait.  Am  I  justly  held  responsible  for 
a  loss  caused  by  thine  own  perversity,  or  thy 
stupidity?  Answer  me  that." 

"But  thou  destroyedst  my  living.  I  fasted 
that  night,  and  it  was  the  festival  time,  too." 

"That  I  am  sorry  for,  but  with  whom  lies 
the  blame?" 

"I  lost  my  cakes,"  persisted  the  old  man. 

"Answer  this  other  question.  Do  not  the 
laws  of  Ephesus  permit  that  sports — foot- 
races, boxing,  and  other  games — take  place 
in  the  public  streets  during  Artemision?" 

"Most  certainly." 

"Well,  then,  was  I  not  engaged  in  a  law- 
ful occupation  on  that  afternoon.  Remem- 


140         STILL  IN  THE  DARK 

ber  thou  wert  not  in  the  temple  grounds, 
but  outside  the  gate,  therefore  in  the  city 
street  where  the  law  holds.  I  was  engaged 
in  a  foot-race  for  a  certainty — ('The  motive 
of  that  race  is  neither  here  nor  there,'  he 
added  sotto  voce) — therefore  thou  shouldst 
have  gotten  out  of  my  way." 

The  old  man  saw  he  was  caught.  He 
paused  for  some  moments,  while  Andros 
looked  on  with  an  amused  smile. 

"I  am  old,  and  do  not  see  well,"  said  the 
cake-seller.  "I  was  confused  at  the  shout- 
ing; I  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn  quick 
enough,  and  so  I  stood  still." 

From  imperative  he  had  become  meek 
and  almost  pleading.  Andros  was  a  little 
touched  at  the  old  man's  trouble.  He  did 
not  wish  to  be  harsh.  Since  his  love  for 
Lydda  had  become  a  real  thing  in  his  life, 
his  sympathy  for  others  had  increased. 
"That  is  well,"  he  said,  not  unkindly.  "Since 
thou  admittest  that  I  was  not  responsible 
for  the  accident,  I  will  tell  thee  what  I  will 
do.  I  will  not  pay  thee,  on  principle.  But 
I  give  thee  enough  gold  to  keep  thee  from 
want.  Take  this,  and  when  it  is  gone  come 
to  me  again." 

It  took  the  old  vendor  of  sweetmeats  some 
little  time  to  realize  his  good  fortune.  He 
was  then  as  profuse  in  his  expressions  of 
gratitude  as  his  former  demands  had  been 
importunate.  The  doer  of  this  kindly  act, 
in  order  to  escape  the  praise  that  was  being 


STILL  IN  THE  DARK          141 

showered  on  him  by  the  cake-seller,  and  the 
complimentary  remarks  of  those  who  had 
listened  to  the  dialogue,  moved  away. 

This  incident  gave  a  different  direction  to 
his  thoughts.  Instead  of  going  straight  to 
the  temple,  he  paused  in  his  walk.  The  meet- 
ing of  the  old  street  merchant  had  recalled 
his  mind  back  to  his  disappointment  and  his 
disgust  at  the  first  sight  of  the  statue  behind 
the  veil.  All  his  repugnance  to  the  worship, 
or,  as  he  understood  it,  the  abuse  of  that 
worship,  returned.  Instead  of  walking 
toward  the  temple,  as  was  his  first  intention, 
he  found  himself  at  the  end  of  the  street 
along  which  he  had  run  when  fleeing  for  his 
life.  He  now  determined  to  continue  his 
walk  to  the  house  of  Pelopidas,  for  he  had 
many  questions  to  put  to  Elymas. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
SOWING  THE  SEED 

"Dost  thou  think,  good  Elymas,"  said 
Andros  after  he  had  been  welcomed  by  his 
friend,  "that  I  did  wrong  yesternight  in  wit- 
nessing the  rites  of  Diana?" 

"Hadst  thou  any  doubt  as  to  the  rectitude 
of  thy  actions?"  asked  Elymas. 

"I  hardly  know,  my  faithful  friend.  Let 
me  explain  the  condition  of  my  mind.  Thou 
must  know  that  since  my  brief  sojourn  in 
thy  family,  and  even  before  that  time,  I  have 
experienced  a  repugnance  to  the  orgies  I  see 
all  around  me.  Such  debaucheries  seem  not 
compatible  with  the  dignity  of  one  who  pos- 
sesses reason,  which  is  surely  a  spark — an 
emanation  of  the  deity.  Is  it  not  so?" 

"Reason  is  one  of  the  highest  gifts  of  the 
deity  to  man,  but  it  is  not  an  emanation  from 
the  deity." 

"It  is  so  godlike — or  what  we  suppose  to 
be  godlike — a  quality  in  man  that  to  me  it 
seems  that  it  must  be  of  divine  origin." 

"It  is,  but  not  therefore  divine  itself.  The 
deity  is  indivisible,  and  therefore  could  not, 
as  it  were,  separate  particles  of  himself  and 
implant  them  in  our  souls.  But  proceed, 
Andros,  with  thy  story." 

142 


SOWING  THE  SEED  143 

"My  repugnance  to  the  coarseness  of  our 
worship  is,  at  times,  intense;  at  other  times 
there  is  the  return  of  the  habit  of  a  lifetime, 
and  I  take  all  for  granted  and  say  what  is, 
is  right.  But  when  I  am  alone,  and  unin- 
fluenced by  exterior  surroundings  or  by  any 
ulterior  motive  within — when,  in  fact,  I  am 
in  a  normal,  rational  state,  the  falsity  of  our 
worship  overwhelms  me.  After  such  cogi- 
tations, in  which  I  feel  myself  lifted  out  of 
myself,  when  I  go  back  to  the  religious  prac- 
tices of  my  ancestors  I  am  unhappy.  Why 
is  this,  O  Elymas?  Why  should  I  not  have 
peace  in  my  heart  instead  of  an  upbraiding 
sense  of  having  done  something  wrong?" 

"It  is  the  voice  of  conscience  speaking  in 
you,  Andros." 

"Conscience!    What  is  conscience?" 

"When  thou  hast  done  some  good  action 
— some  noble  deed — wert  thou  not  happy 
afterwards?  Was  there  not  an  approving 
sense  within  thee?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  other.  "I  gave  old 
Cleon  some  gold  just  now.  I  at  once  felt 
happier  for  it.  Perhaps  it  was  at  seeing  the 
old  man's  tears  of  gratitude  and  hearing  the 
plaudits  of  those  who  witnessed  my  deed.  I 
know  not." 

"That  was  legitimate  pleasure,  but  not  the 
real  cause  of  thy  happiness.  It  came  from 
an  approving  conscience." 

"But  what  is  conscience?  Where  does  it 
reside?  Can  I  gain  or  lose  it?" 


144  SOWING  THE  SEED 

"It  is,  good  friend,  an  inward  monitor  of 
the  soul,  planted  in  the  breast  of  every 
human  being  by  the  great  God." 

"By  Diana  or  Jupiter?" 

"No,  no.  By  the  great  and  only  God,  the 
Creator  of  all  things." 

"Great  and  only  God!  I  do  not  under- 
stand. The  world  is  full  of  gods.  Every 
nation  has  its  own,  either  god  or  goddess. 
As  thou  knowest,  the  fame  of  our  goddess  is 
world-wide." 

"If  thou  continuest  to  favor  us  with  thy 
visits  I  will  explain  that  in  good  time.  Let 
me  proceed  with  the  question  of  conscience. 
If  thou  wilt  look  back  upon  thy  experience 
thou  wilt  see  that  thou  hast  always  possessed 
it.  It  is  supreme  and  beyond  our  domestic 
life;  it  transcends  our  civil  and  political  life; 
it  is  even  supreme  to  religion  itself.  What 
it  says,  thou  must  perforce  follow.  As  often 
as,  through  pride  or  passion  or  any  other 
evil  propensity,  thou  goest  against  it,  thou 
art  unhappy.  It  will  not  let  thee  rest.  Is  it 
not  true  that  in  following  its  dictates  thou 
findest  peace?" 

Andros  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  nor 
did  Elymas  interrupt  his  thoughts.  He  de- 
sired that  what  he  had  said  should  sink  deep 
into  his  friend's  consciousness.  At  length 
Andros  broke  the  silence: 

"I  believe  thou  art  right.  I  certainly  am 
happier  when  I  am  doing  good,  and  there  is 
something  within  me  that  approves.  On  the 


SOWING  THE  SEED  145 

contrary,  when  I  give  way  to  furious  anger 
there  is,  again,  something  within  me  that 
tells  me  I  am  acting  in  an  unmanly  way. 
When  I  indulge  in  too  much  Pramnian  wine, 
there  is  something  which  reproves.  "Tis  pre- 
cisely this  uneasy  feeling  within  me  that  led 
me  to  doubt  of  the  correctness  of  a  worship 
which  sanctions  and  openly  advocates  and 
practices  drunkenness  as  an  overt  act  of 
religious  worship  to  a  deity." 

"Then,  to  come  back  to  thy  first  question, 
didst  thou  do  wrong  last  night  in  witnessing 
the  ritual  procession?  I  say  the  answer  is 
found  in  thine  own  breast.  Thy  conscience 
upbraided  thee,  and  it  does  so  yet;  therefore, 
thou  didst  wrong." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Andros,  simply. 

"That  is  good,  my  friend.  Because  thou 
art  sorry  thou  wilt  not  offend  again." 

"Why  dost  thou  desire  that  I  go  not  again 
to  the  temple,  good  Elymas?"  asked  Andros. 
"Thou  seemest  to  take  as  much  interest  in 
me  as  in  thine  own  sons.  Why  art  thou  so 
kind?" 

"Because  I  see  in  thee  an  image  and  like- 
ness of  a  mysterious  Being,  and  in  being 
good  and  kind  to  thee,  I  am  good  towards 
Him,  my  friend." 

"A  mysterious  being  in  me!  Am  I  pos- 
sessed by  a  divinity!  Thou  surely  dost  not 
say  that  I  am  a  god.  I  know  thou  wouldst 
not  flatter.  What  dost  thou  mean?" 

"I  did  not  say  that  thou  art  or  hast  a 
10 


146  SOWING  THE  SEED 

divinity,  but  I  said  thou  hast  within  thee  the 
likeness  of  something  divine.  Thou  hast  a 
soul." 

"That  Socrates  and  Plato  have  taught  me. 
What  then?" 

"That  soul  is  immortal  and  will  live  on 
for  eons  of  time  after  thy  body  shall  have 
crumbled  into  dust.  It  will  some  day  be 
reunited  to  thy  body  and  both  shall  be  happy 
or  miserable  for  all  eternity." 

"But  how  knowest  thou  that  this  soul  of 
mine  shall  last  forever?" 

"Because,  good  friend,  of  thy  unfulfilled 
capacity  for  happiness." 

Andros  looked  up  with  a  momentary  anger 
in  his  eyes.  He  thought  that  Elymas  was 
amusing  himself  at  his  expense.  At  the  mo- 
ment he  was  in  far  too  serious  a  mood  for 
trifling,  and  he  began  to  experience  a  feeling 
of  resentment. 

Looking  sharply,  however,  at  the  serious, 
placid  face  of  Elymas  he  became  convinced 
of  his  mistake. 

"I  thought  thou  wert  making  sport  of  me, 
but  now  I  know  thou  art  not." 

"It  will  ill  become  me  to  trifle  on  so  serious 
a  subject,"  said  Elymas. 

"Proceed,  my  friend.  Let  me  know  thine 
argument." 

"Were  Abdiel  here  he  would  speak  better 
than  I.  I  would  he  were  here.  I  said  the 
soul  is  proved  to  be  immortal  from  its  pres- 
ent unfulfilled  capacity  for  complete  happi- 


SOWING  THE  SEED  147 

ness.  God  would  have  wrought  in  vain  in 
giving  this  capacity  if  He  were  not  able  to 
satisfy  it.  Didst  thou  ever  see  a  man  per- 
fectly happy,  Andros?" 

Andros  thought  for  some  time.  At  length 
he  said: 

"I  have  been  very  happy,  thanks  to  the 
goddess,  at  least  for  a  time." 

"For  a  time!  But  didst  thou  never  feel 
that  it  is  within  thee  to  enjoy  greater  things 
and  be  still  happier  than  thou  hast  yet  ever 
been?  Was  thine  own  capacity  ever  satis- 
fied?" 

"Alas,  no !  There  have  always  been  dregs 
in  my  cup  of  pleasure,  or  the  desired  pleas- 
ure has  been  unattainable." 

"But  if  the  Supreme  Being  has  placed  that 
capacity  in  thy  soul  must  He  not  satisfy  it, 
either  here  or  hereafter?" 

"It  would  seem  so,  unless  He  is  not  all- 
efficient." 

"Granting  that  thy  answer  is  true,  and 
granting  that  this  capacity  within  thee,  ac- 
cording to  thine  own  words,  has  never  been 
satisfied  in  this  life,  does  it  not  follow  that  it 
must  be  in  the  next?" 

"Most  certainly." 

"Then,  on  the  theory  of  an  unsatisfied 
capacity  for  happiness,  thou  grantest  a  life 
after  this  one?" 

"I  must,  perforce.  But  may  not  the  soul, 
after  it  has  crossed  the  Styx,  have  this 


148  SOWING  THE  SEED 

capacity  for  infinite  happiness  satisfied,  and 
then  when  once  satisfied,  cease  to  exist?" 

"No,  for  there  would  be  a  contradiction. 
If  in  the  next  world  I  have  the  foreboding 
fear  of  annihilation  forever  looming  up  on 
my  horizon,  would  I  be  said  to  enjoy  com- 
plete happiness?  Dost  thou  not  realize  that 
existence  is  our  greatest  good,  and  non-exist- 
ence the  greatest  of  all  possible  evils?  If, 
then,  I  had  always  the  fear  of  ceasing  to  be — 
this  greatest  of  all  evils — constantly  before 
me,  how  could  I  be  completely  happy,  or 
even  happy  at  all?  Canst  thou  not  see  that 
the  soul,  by  its  very  capacity  for  complete 
happiness,  must  last  forever,  and  so  is 
immortal?" 

Andros  was  too  intelligent  not  to  grasp 
the  argument,  and  too  honest  not  to  ac- 
quiesce. "I  see,  I  see,"  he  cried,  "thanks  to 
thee,  my  good  friend.  Thou  hast  given  me 
a  new  consolation.  Thy  statement  that  the 
body,  although  crumbled  into  dust,  will  one 
day  be  reunited  to  the  soul  has  no  diffi- 
culty for  me.  I  love  my  body,  and  as  I  am 
destined  to  complete  happiness  I  must  get  it 
back  again  at  some  time,  or  the  happiness 
of  my  soul  would  lack  its  completeness  and 
I  should  be  dissatisfied.  I  see  it  all  now." 

"See,  then,  Andros,  that  thou  so  live  that 
thou  finally  miss  not  this  completion  of  hap- 
piness of  which  thou  possessest  so  great  a 
capacity." 


SOWING  THE  SEED  149 

"How  can  I  miss  it?    It  must  necessarily 


come." 


He  was  elated  with  the  great  thought — 
something  more  sublime  than  had  ever  en- 
tered his  mind  before.  Yet,  amid  his  enthu- 
siasm, Elymas  detected  a  tinge  of  fatalism. 

"Couldst  thou  not,  Andros,  have  remained 
away  from  the  temple  grounds  last  night?" 
he  asked. 

"Most  certainly." 

"And  couldst  thou  not  have  gone  this 
afternoon  to  the  Silenusian  lakes,  hadst  thou 
chosen,  instead  of  giving  us  the  pleasure  of 
thy  company?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  answered  Andros. 

"Canst  thou  not  walk  to  the  right  or  the 
left,  as  pleaseth  thee?" 

"Yes." 

"What  follows  from  this  power  of 
choice?" 

"That  my  will  is  free.  I  can  do  or  not  do, 
as  I  will." 

"Yet,  remember  the  object  of  the  will  is 
the  good,  which  it  must  always  desire. 
Whatever  we  desire,  we  desire  under  some' 
form  of  good.  In  the  order  of  our  moral 
actions  our  conscience  is  the  monitor  and 
guide,  and  it  will  save  us  from  being  de- 
ceived. If,  under  the  appearance  of  some 
good  to  be  obtained,  we  do  wrong,  conscience 
will  chide  and  check  us  and  lead  us,  finally, 
to  attain  our  greatest  good,  which  is  com- 
plete happiness.  When  we  disregard  this 


150  SOWING  THE  SEED 

inward  monitor  we  go  astray,  and  must 
either  retrace  our  steps,  or,  continuing  to 
go  against  it,  never  reach  the  complete  hap- 
piness of  which  we  have  been  speaking.  So 
you  see  that  although  this  capacity  for  com- 
plete happiness  has  been  given  to  you,  it  is 
possible  never  to  reach  it." 

"But  a  man  would  be  a  fool  to  put  ob- 
stacles in  the  way  of  reaching  it!" 

"Precisely,  and  that  is  what  he  does  when 
he  acts  against  his  conscience." 

"Thou  hast  given  me  many  things  to  think 
about,  Elymas.  I  will  walk  alone  and  think 
them  over.  I  had  intended  to  spend  the 
evening  with  thy  family,  but  these  great 
thoughts  now  revolving  in  my  mind  would 
make  me  a  poor  and  distracted  visitor.  I  will 
come  again,"  and  without  even  going  into 
the  house,  he  immediately  walked  away 
towards  his  home. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER 

When  Aratus  left  the  cave  of  Arachne, 
a  little  distance  off  the  main  travelled  road 
to  Magnesia,  and  discovered  that  the  two 
sailors  had  deserted  him,  he  was  very  much 
frightened.  He  also  feared  that  the  witch 
would  release  her  terrible  hound.  There 
were  known  to  exist  in  the  surrounding  low 
hills  companies  of  robber  bands  who  fre- 
quently and  with  startling  boldness  waylaid 
travellers. 

More  than  once,  recently,  had  the  pro- 
consul sent  out  detachments  of  soldiers  to 
rid  the  neighborhood,  but  in  some  mysterious 
way  the  bandits  always  gathered  again  soon 
after  their  dispersion.  The  wise  ones  of  the 
city  winked  at  each  other  and  hinted  that 
the  pro-consular  purse  was  not  growing 
lighter. 

The  wine  Aratus  had  taken  had  given  him 
sufficient  courage  to  face  the  witch  in  her 
cave,  but  as  its  effects  died  away  on  his 
homeward  journey,  he  became  more  and 
more  frightened,  starting  at  his  own  shadow 
and  fearful  of  the  noises  of  the  night.  The 
hooting  of  an  owl  set  him  trembling,  and  the 

151 


152      AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER 

cry  of  the  young  foxes  in  the  hills  made  his 
flesh  creep. 

Nothing  but  the  desperate  condition  of 
his  purse  and  his  vanishing  credit  could  have 
induced  him  to  consult  the  old  woman.  He 
had  not  bargained  for  the  solitary  journey 
back  to  the  city.  He  even  feared,  and  with 
good  reason,  that  the  two  ruffianly  sailors 
whom  he  had  paid  to  escort  him  would  be 
waiting  for  him  in  some  lonely  spot,  and 
perhaps  murder  him.  He  deserted  the  main 
travelled  road  and  ran  from  boulder  to  boul- 
der, from  tree  to  tree,  as  he  made  his  way 
homeward. 

By  one  of  those  singular  chances  which 
sometimes  come  to  cowards  he  was  not  mo- 
lested. When  he  approached  the  city  gate 
his  courage  revived  and  his  thoughts  at  once 
reverted  to  his  plan  of  wreaking  vengeance 
on  Andros.  He  had  not  settled  upon  any 
definite  mode  of  action.  He  hugged  the 
precious  vial,  which  he  had  hidden  in  the 
fold  of  his  tunic,  and  gloated  over  its 
potency.  Should  he  administer  merely  the 
two  or  three  drops,  or  should  he  give  more 
to  his  enemy  when  the  occasion  offered? 

With  still  no  definitely  formulated  plan  in 
his  mind  he  sauntered,  two  days  later,  into 
the  workshop  of  Demetrius,  the  silversmith. 
He  was  known  to  most  of  the  workmen  and 
passed  freely  in  and  out  among  them,  nod- 
ding to  one  and  chatting  to  another  as  he 
went. 


AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER       153 

It  was  now  near  the  end  of  the  festival 
season.  Most  of  the  artisans,  having  had 
sufficient  pleasure  and  amusement,  were 
again  at  their  work-benches.  Some  were 
busy  making  chalk  or  clay  moulds  or  mod- 
els. Others  were  attending  to  small  port- 
able furnaces  in  which  they  were  melting 
silver  to  run  into  the  smaller  moulds.  In 
another  part  of  the  shop  men  were  engaged 
in  chiselling  or  rasping  the  rough  portions 
of  small  statues  which  were  sufficiently  cool 
to  be  handled.  Others  were  polishing  the 
almost  finished  product  of  the  workshop.  It 
was  a  busy  scene.  Some  thirty  men  were  at 
different  occupations. 

The  walls  of  the  room  were  ornamented 
with  various  models  of  Diana  in  clay,  and 
in  Pion  marble.  She  was  represented  as 
the  Huntress,  as  Magos,  the  goddess  of 
magic,  or  as  Hecate,  crowned  with  snakes 
and  wearing  a  bearskin.  Bows,  quivers,  ar- 
rows and  other  symbols  of  the  goddess  were 
arranged  on  the  walls,  with  nets  and  antlers 
and  shields.  Models  of  dogs  and  deer  were 
placed  here  and  there  in  conspicuous  places 
for  the  benefit  of  the  artists  who  made  the 
statues  in  "miniature  for  the  famous  house- 
hold shrines. 

Rhytons,  or  drinking  horns,  terminating 
in  a  greyhound's  head,  armlets,  eagle-tipped 
sceptres,  fans,  sandals,  sacrificial  knives  and 
cases  adorned  the  walls  and  shelves.  A 
sample  of  almost  every  personal  adornment, 


154      AN  EPHHSIAN  ATELIER 

Grecian  or  Roman,  was  found  in  this  work- 
shop or  studio.  Demetrius  gave  his  artists 
and  designers  full  liberty  in  the  execution  of 
their  work,  and  in  consequence  the  place 
was  filled  with  many  things  that  might  sug- 
gest new  designs  or  new  poses  for  statues, 
which  were  first  moulded  in  clay  and  then 
copied  in  silver.  As  a  good  Ephesian, 
Demetrius  was  a  devoted  worshipper  of 
Diana,  yet  that  did  not  prevent  him  from 
taking  orders  for  shrines  for  any  other  of 
the  gods.  His  workshop,  therefore,  re- 
sembled a  museum  of  valuable  and  curious 
models  of  many  gods. 

Many  of  the  workmen  who  were  not  inti- 
mate with  him  regarded  Aratus  as  a  wealthy 
Ephesian  of  leisure,  for  he  always  managed 
to  dress  as  one  of  the  wealthier  class.  There 
were  but  one  or  two  among  them  who  knew 
his  exact  financial  standing,  and  how  his  few 
acres  of  vine-lands  barely  sufficed  to  keep 
him  in  straightened  idleness.  These  knew 
of  his  ambitions  in  the  way  of  making  a 
wealthy  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  Mel- 
lanides,  but  they  also  knew  that  his  chances 
of  success  were  of  the  slightest.  These  two 
workmen  were  aware  that  Andros  was  bv 

«r 

far  the  greater  favorite  with  Mellanides,  and 
both  believed  that  the  old  soldier's  daughter 
looked  with  favoring  eye  on  him  who  had 
recently  saved  her  life.  Andros  was  popular 
in  the  workshop,  for  he  was  free  with  silver 


AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER       155 

coins  for  wine  among  the  workmen.  Aratus 
never  untied  his  purse-strings  there. 

"How  are  thy  friends,  the  Hebrews,  to- 
day, Aratus?"  asked  Callus,  the  elder  of  the 
two  wrho  knew  of  his  financial  condition. 

"What  is  that  to  thee?  I  have  no  friends 
who  are  Jews?" 

"Nevertheless,  as  report  goes,  they  are 
kind  to  thee.  Thou  must  offer  them  a  good 
security  for  their  loans." 

"How  knowest  thou  that  I  borrow  from 
them?  I  tell  not  my  affairs  to  workmen," 
he  said,  superciliously. 

"Thou  hast  no  need,"  replied  Callus,  a 
little  viciously;  "thine  affairs  are  well  known. 
Thinkest  thou  that  the  people  on  the  agora 
know  not  what  passes  where  money  is  con- 
cerned?" 

"Yes,"  remarked  the  second  workman, 
"the  slimness  of  thy  purse  is  as  well  known 
by  those  who  wish  to  know  as  if  thou  hadst 
sent  a  herald  to  proclaim  it." 

"Thou  follower  of  Mercury  !*  Canst  thou 
not  speak  the  truth  for  once,  thou  man  of 
three  letters. f  Thou  knowest  nought  of 
my  affairs.  I  tell  not  mine  affairs  to  work- 
men," and  he  began  arranging  his  toga  virilis 
with  affectation. 

"Thou  hast  no  need  to  do  so.  Working- 
men — honest  workingmen — who  are  not 
afraid  to  labor  for  their  living,  nor  too  idle, 


*Liar.    fFur,  thief. 


156      AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER 

often  find  out  things  that  those  who  ape 
patricians  without  the  patricians'  wealth 
would  not  for  worlds  have  known." 

"By  Hecate's  dogs,  thou  insultest  me. 
I  will  have  thee  whipped.  I  will  have 
Demetrius  discharge  thee.  I  will  drag  thee 
before  the  Chancellor's  tribunal  for  slander 
—I— I  will—" 

Callus  and  his  companion  burst  into  a 
hearty  and  amused  laugh.  They  never  took 
Aratus  seriously.  He  grew  more  angry. 

"Listen,  thou  poor  vine-grower,"  con- 
tinued the  artisan,  "listen.  Thou  wilt  never 
marry  the  beautiful  Lydda,  daughter  of  Mel- 
lanides.  Thy  chances  grow  less  and  less 
each  day.  The  Jews  know  this.  They  are 
well  informed.  Thou  hast  borrowed  thy  last 
gold  piece  from  every  Jew  in  Ephesus.  Thy 
credit  is  gone.  Even  Arachne's  potion  will 
not  avail  thee.  We  know  thou  didst  run 
from  rock  to  rock  on  thy  return  like  a  fright- 
ened hare.  Thou  needest  not  be  so  fearful. 
The  gods,  when  they  reserve  a  man  for  a 
worse  fate,  will  not  let  brigands  slit  his 
throat.  If  thou  art  born  to  be  hanged  thou 
wilt  never  be  drowned." 

Aratus  was  now  furious.  He  could  not 
understand  how  these  men  of  Demetrius' 
shop  had  learned  so  much  about  him  and  his 
recent  movements,  and  his  only  partially 
formed  designs.  He  did  not  know  that  much 
of  what  they  had  said  was  good  guesswork. 
He  forgot  that  the  workshop  of  Demetrius 


AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER       157 

and  the  pleasant  garden  around  it  were  the 
resort  of  many  of  the  wealthier  people  of 
Ephesus,  where  the  transactions  of  the 
money  lenders  were  freely  discussed,  and 
often  within  the  hearing  of  the  workmen. 

Callus  and  his  companion  were  good- 
natured,  and  would  often  have  given  Aratus 
hints  that  might  have  turned  to  his  own 
benefit,  but  the  latter  was  vain  and  super- 
cilious and  they  knew  that  he  pretended  to  a 
station  far  above  their  own.  They  were 
aware  of  the  slimness  of  the  income  upon 
which  he  was  living  as  a  man  of  leisure.  At 
first  they  were  amused,  but  when  he  assumed 
the  airs  of  a  patrician,  they  became  annoyed 
and  often  vexed  him  with  cutting  speeches. 

This  time  they  had  spoken  with  more 
venom  than  they  had  ever  done  before,  and 
Aratus  was  extremely  angry.  He  turned 
away  from  his  two  tormentors  with  some- 
thing very  like  a  curse  upon  his  lips,  to  which 
they  responded  with  a  hearty  laugh  as  they 
again  gave  their  attention  to  the  fashioning 
of  clay  models. 

In  turning  hastily,  Aratus  almost  ran  into 
the  arms  of  Demetrius. 

"The  gods  be  praised!  Thou  art,  O  Ara- 
tus, an  early  patron.  The  Jews  say  an  early 
customer  bringeth  good  fortune.  Ten  of  my 
patrons  come  at  the  third  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing to  walk  in  my  garden.  Hast  left  an 
order  with  Callus  for  a  statue  of  Diana  to 
weigh  a  thousand  ounces  of  silver?  Callus 


158      AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER 

is  honest.  Thy  statue  shall  correspond  in 
weight  to  thy  supply  of  silver.  It  shall  dis- 
place as  much  water  as  the  unwrought  ma- 
terial. Oh,  Callus  is  honest.  He  would  not 
cheat  thee  of  an  obolus." 

The  silversmith  amused  himself.  It  was 
often  a  source  of  amusement  to  Demetrius, 
to  watch  the  airs  of  his  visitor  and  see  him 
attempt  to  play  the  lordly  patrician. 

"No,  O  silversmith,"  replied  Aratus,  who 
could  never  discover  when  he  was  being 
quizzed  and  received  all  remarks  addressed 
to  him  seriously.  "No,  I  am  not  thinking 
to-day  of  leaving  such  an  order.  Some  other 
time — "  and  he  waved  his  hand  as  if  dis- 
missing a  subject  too  trivial  to  waste  much 
time  over. 

"Dear  me!  dear  me!"  said  Demetrius,  in 
a  half  comical  way,  "we  have  taken  no  order 
of  consequence  all  the  Artemision.  Let  me 
sell  thee  this  shrine  of  Diana.  Thou  shalt 
have  it  for  its  weight  in  silver  and  one-third 
its  weight  in  the  same  metal  for  the  cost  of 
workmanship.  It  weighs  not  more  than 
three  hundred  ounces." 

Still  unable  to  see  that  he  was  being 
laughed  at,  Aratus  again  seriously  refused 
to  purchase.  Demetrius  continued: 

"Ha!  what  shrine  have  I  been  offering 
thee?  It  is  fortunate  thou  didst  not  desire 
to  buy  this  particular  statue,  as  it  has  been 
purchased  by  thy  friend  Andros,  who  in- 
tends to  present  it  to  the  daughter  of  Mel- 


AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER       159 

lanides  on  her  birthday  next  month.  It  will 
cost  him  nearly  a  year's  profits  of  his  fish- 
eries." 

"Friend !"  said  Aratus  sneeringly. 

Demetrius  saw  with  amusement  the  look 
of  intense  anger  come  over  the  face  of  his 
visitor. 

"Friend!  I  tell  thee  he  is  mine  enemy.  I 
would  that  he  were  out  of  my  way." 

"He  was  once,  lately,  very  nearly  out  of 
thy  way  for  all  time,"  said  Demetrius,  laugh- 
ing now  at  the  remembrance  of  his  former 
anger  and  of  the  chase  he  had  caused  to  be 
given  after  Andros  at  the  memorable  visit  to 
the  temple.  The  silversmith  had  soon  re- 
garded the  whole  affair  as  trifling  and  bore 
no  ill-will  toward  Andros,  remembering 
that  he  had  been  in  a  state  of  religious 
frenzy  at  the  time.  As  soon  as  the  excite- 
ment subsided,  he  had  been  rather  pleased 
than  otherwise  that  no  harm  had  befallen 
Andros. 

"Out  of  my  way!  Would  that  it  were  so! 
How  sayest  thou?" 

Demetrius  gave  him  the  full  details  of  the 
incident  of  the  temple.  As  the  recital  pro- 
ceeded the  listener  became  very  much  ex- 
cited. His  eyes  shone  with  anticipated  re- 
venge. He  would  set  the  priests  of  Diana 
on  the  scent  of  this  blasphemy.  He  would 
denounce  the  traitor.  He  would  now  sweep 
him  aside  from  his  path.  After  all,  there 
would  be  no  need  to  use  the  dread  potion  of 


160      AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER 

Arachne.  At  this,  notwithstanding  his 
anger,  he  felt  relieved,  for  he  dreaded  the 
taking  of  a  man's  life,  and  he  knew  he  could 
not  trust  himself  to  administer  two  or  three 
drops  only  of  the  poison. 

"He  blasphemed  the  goddess!  Ho!  ho! 
He  shall  pay  for  it !  Now  I  have  caught  him. 
At  length  the  opportunity  has  come.  A  rene- 
gade from  the  worship  of  Ephesus!" 

"Be  not  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Demetrius, 
somewhat  nettled,  for  he  saw  that  Aratus 
was  capable  of  making  mischief.  "This  does 
not  look  as  if  Andros  were  rejecting,  or  even 
neglecting,  the  religion  of  Diana."  He  point- 
ed to  the  valuable  silver  shrine. 

"I  know  he  was  present  at  the  last  ritual 
procession,  for  Callus  saw  him  on  the  pedes- 
tal of  one  of  the  pillars  near  the  gate,  with 
one  of  his  customers  from  Cyprus.  The 
priests  know  of  this  escapade,  and  long  ago 
he  has  ingratiated  himself  with  them.  He 
will  not  be  molested.  He  has  lined  their 
purse  with  silver,  I  suppose.  He  is  in  good 
favor  again,  at  all  events,  and  thy  efforts  to 
hurt  him  in  that  direction  will  be  like  the 
waves  dashing  against  a  rock.  The  rock 
remains  unmoved." 

"But  he  blasphemed—" 

"Which  has  been  forgiven  and  forgotten 
by  the  priests  long  ago.  Thou  canst  not 
harm  him  there.  Thou  must  look  in  another 
direction  to  vent  thy  spleen." 

"Spleen!"  said  Aratus,  indignantly. 


AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER       161 

"Yes,  friend,  thy  spleen.  Every  one  knows 
thou  are  envious  of  Andros  on  account  of 
the  favor  with  which  he  is  received  in  the 
house  of  Mellanides.  Be  fair.  Be  a  man. 
Win  her,  if  thou  canst,  by  honorable  means. 
I  know  thy  family.  It  would  grieve  thy 
father,  were  he  living  now,  if  he  saw  his  own 
son  using  dishonorable  means  of  getting  rid 
of  a  rival.  Do  not  start!  Every  one  in  Ephe- 
sus — the  Jew  money  lenders  especially — 
knows  of  thy  love  affair.  Act  the  part  of 
a  man,  and  let  the  better  man  win,  I  say." 

With  this  sound  admonition  Demetrius 
walked  away  to  give  some  directions  to  a 
workman  at  the  other  end  of  the  long  room. 
The  two,  during  this  talk,  had  stood  very 
near  a  large  furnace  in  one  corner.  There 
was  a  man  at  the  bellows  now  busily  work- 
ing them.  He  was  within  earshot,  and  by 
not  letting  the  leather  of  the  bellows  creak 
and  groan  more  than  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, had  heard  all  that  passed  between  Ara- 
tus  and  his  master.  When  the  master  went 
away,  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Aratus: 

"That  plan  has  failed,  but  it  is  in  my 
power  to  help  thee." 

Aratus  looked  around  and  saw  a  thickset 
man,  with  broad  shoulders  and  long  sinewy 
arms  of  remarkable  strength.  His  muscles 
stood  out  in  great  knots.  The  fingers,  grimy 
and  dirty  from  his  occupation,  were  long 
and  very  powerful,  and  as  they  twitched,  and 

closed  and  opened  again,  Aratus  felt  that  his 
n 


162      AN  EPHESIAN  ATELIER 

chance  of  surviving  would  be  slim  were  they 
once  wound  around  his  throat.  The  dwarf's 
head  appeared  enormously  large,  and  was 
covered  with  a  crop  of  coarse  black  hair,  the 
roots  of  which  grew  far  down  on  his  low 
forehead,  which  was  blackened  from  the 
smoke  of  the  furnace.  Bushy  and  protrud- 
ing eyebrows  shaded  a  pair  of  glaring  promi- 
nent eyes  full  of  malice  and  the  worst  pas- 
sions of  man.  His  tunic  had  been  thrown 
aside,  and  the  under  garment  was  open  and 
exposed  a  hairy  chest.  The  grotesque  fig- 
ure had  more  the  resemblance  of  a  beast 
than  a  man. 

"Who  art  thou?"  said  Aratus,  stepping 
back  a  couple  of  paces. 

"Coward!  why  dost  thou  retreat?  Art 
afraid  of  an  ugly  form,  and  yet  wouldst  put 
a  rival  out  of  thy  path!" 

"Who  art  thou?" 

"A  dense  Scythian  forest  hid  the  hut 
where  I  was  born.  But  that  is  naught  to 
thee.  I  can  help  thee  if  thou  wilt.  It  is  in 
my  power." 

"What  canst  thou  do?" 

"If  thou  wouldst  know,  meet  me  at  the 
fountain  in  the  agora  venalis,  where  I  eat 
my  bread  and  figs  at  the  hour  of  noon." 

The  dwarf,  either  from  fear  of  being  seen 
talking  with  Aratus,  or  to  make  himself  ap- 
pear a  mysterious  character  to  that  indi- 
vidual, turned  to  his  bellows  and  would  not 
say  another  word. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
PLOTTING 

Ephesus  presented  at  noon  an  animated 
scene.  By  that  hour  the  business  of  the  city 
was  in  full  swing  and  the  streets  were 
thronged  with  merchants  and  buyers  as  well 
as  pleasure  seekers.  The  more  leisurely 
class  going  to  or  returning  from  their  first 
plunge  in  the  public  baths,  by  the  brightness 
and  variety  of  color  of  their  costumes  lent  a 
pleasing  cheerfulness  to  the  picture.  Artisans 
tand  laborers,  from  atelier  and  workshop,  re- 
leased from  toil  during  the  period  of  the  mid- 
day meal,  poured  out  into  the  sunshine  they 
so  much  loved,  and  congregated  in  large 
numbers  around  the  marble  basin  of  a  foun- 
tain in  the  agora  venalis,  which  was  fed  by  a 
spring  of  deliciously  cool  water.  The  over- 
flow was  drained  off  into  the  city  port  by  an 
underground  conduit. 

Aratus  sauntered  near  the  fountain  at  the 
time  specified  by  the  dwarf,  who  recognized 
him  long  before  he  had  finished  his  meal,  but 
did  not  deign  to  take  notice  of  him  until  he 
had  washed  down  his  figs  and  bread  with 
copious  draughts  of  the  almost  ice-cold  wa- 
ter. 

When  the  ill-favored  hunchback  looked 

163 


164  PLOTTING 

around,  as  if  expecting  some  one,  Aratus 
came  forward  from  among  the  people 
thronging  the  agora.  He  did  not  put  much 
confidence  in  the  bellows-blower,  yet  he  was 
curious  to  learn  what  he  had  to  say. 

"Come  a  little  apart,"  said  the  dwarf,  who, 
in  the  sunlight,  looked  grimier  and  dirtier 
than  he  did  in  the  shade  of  the  workshop.  "I 
want  not  every  one  to  hear  what  I  shall  say 
to  thee." 

The  ill-assorted  pair  left  the  busy  agora 
and  went  into  a  narrow  street.  They  stood 
in  the  shade,  and  the  dwarf  leaned  his  mis- 
shapen back  against  the  wall  of  a  house. 

"Thou  wishest  to  be  avenged  on  Andros, 
the  owner  of  the  sailing  vessels?" 

"How  knowest  thou  that  that  is  my  de- 
sire?" asked  Aratus,  to  whom  it  seemed  at 
the  moment  that  everybody  in  Ephesus 
knew  his  designs  and  projects.  This  was  the 
third  time  that  morning  he  had  been  told 
what  he  intended  to  do. 

"How  know  I?  Have  I  not  ears?  The 
workmen  of  the  shop  regard  me  as  a  mere 
animal,  lacking  all  intelligence.  They  never 
hesitate  to  speak  their  secrets  plainly  before 
me.  Because  my  body  is  ill-formed  they  think 
I  am  without  sense,  but  they  shall  find  their 
mistake  ere  long." 

He  was  vindictive  and  there  was  a  fero- 
cious glare  in  his  eyes. 

"But  what  know  they?" 

"Callus  knoweth  all  about  thee.     Didst 


PLOTTING  165 

thou  not  have  evidence  of  that  this  morning? 
And  Demetrius — " 

"Does  Demetrius  speak  thus  publicly 
about  my  concerns?" 

"Demetrius  hath  many  customers  who 
come  to  his  shop  and  to  his  garden,  and  these 
know  thee  well." 

"And  so  my  love  affairs  and  my  domestic 
concerns  are  public  property,"  said  Aratus, 
with  disgust  in  his  tones. 

"Among  many,  yes." 

"Thou  sayest  thou  canst  be  of  assistance 
to  me.  I  will  give  thee  gold  if  it  is  worth  it." 

"Keep  thy  money.  I  do  not  this  for  thy 
sake,  but  to  avenge  myself  on  Andros.  He 
comes  to  the  workshop  and  scatters  his  sil- 
ver among  the  workmen,  but  never  has  he 
regarded  me  at  my  furnace  more  than  as  a 
curious  animal  to  be  gazed  at,  or  as  a  wild 
beast  in  a  cage.  Only  yesterday  he  scoffed 
at  me  and  held  me  up  to  ridicule.  I  hate  him 
— hate!  hate!"  and  he  trembled  in  his  pas- 
sionate anger. 

Aratus  was  surprised  at  the  vehemence 
of  the  dwarfs  passion.  He  saw  that  he  would 
be  a  willing  aid  in  any  scheme  of  revenge  he 
might  set  on  foot  to  wreak  harm  on  his  rival. 

"Callus  .said  this  morning,"  continued  the 
dwarf,  "that  thou  hast  a  deadly  potion  pre- 
pared for  Andros." 

"What  if  I  denied?" 

"Thou  wouldst  be  a  fool.  Thou  hast  such 
a  potion." 


166  PLOTTING 

"Well?" 

"Use  it  not.    Thou  wilt  not  need  it." 

"How  sayest  thou?  If  the  truth  were  told 
I  would  fain  throw  it  away." 

"Do  not  so.  It  cost  thee  gold.  Give  it 
into  my  keeping.  I  will  see  that  it  is  put  to  a 
good  use." 

"Thou  wilt  administer  it  thyself  to  my  ri- 
val?" 

"I  promise  not  this.  I  said  not  so.  I  told 
thee  I  would  put  it  to  good  use,  and  so  I 
will."  Aratus  took  the  vial  from  the  inner 
fold  of  his  tunic,  and,  after  a  period  of  hesita- 
tion, handed  it  to  the  dwarf. 

"See  how  I  trust  thee,"  he  said.  "Now, 
how  canst  thou  help  me  in  this  affair?" 

"Know  ye  the  habits  of  Andros?" 

"Not  those  of  recent  days.  He  has  resided 
some  days  at  the  mansion  of  Mellanides  of 
late." 

The  dwarf  pointed  his  long  bony  finger  at 
Aratus,  saying  impressively: 

"He  is  forsaking  the  gods !" 

"What  meanest  thou?  Speak.  Demetrius 
told  me  this  morning  in  thy  hearing  of  his 
refusal  to  cry  aloud  in  honor  of  the  statue 
of  Diana.  But  that  has  passed  and  is  for- 
gotten." 

"Yet  I  tell  thee,  O  Aratus,  that  Andros  is 
forsaking  the  worship  of  the  goddess  oi 
Ephesus.  Come  with  me  this  evening  be- 
yond the  southern  city  wall,  and  I  will  prove 


PLOTTING  167 

my  statement.  It  is  time  for  me  to  return 
to  my  furnace." 

When  the  dwarf  had  left  him,  the  enemy 
of  Andros  pondered  over  his  statements  for 
a  long  time.  He  questioned  himself  whether 
he  had  done  wisely  in  giving  up  the  poison, 
to  obtain  which  he  had  ventured  so  much. 
Might  not  this  evil-looking  specimen  of  a 
man  be  in  the  pay,  and  perhaps  in  the  confi- 
dence of  his  enemy?  Perhaps  he  was  but  a 
good  actor  after  all.  Might  it  not  be  a  plot 
to  secure  the  vial  and  convey  it  to  Andros? 
Aratus  could  not  decide  whether  he  had  been 
duped  by  an  agent  of  Andros  and  at  the  in- 
stigation of  Callus,  the  silver  worker,  or 
whether  the  dwarf  was  in  earnest  in  his  de- 
sire for  revenge  and  would  really,  that  even- 
ing, give  him  more  valuable  information 
which  could  be  used  against  the  lover  of  Lyd- 
da.  After  much  hesitation  he  finally  decided 
to  keep  his  appointment  at  the  city  gate. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  sun  had  taken  his 
evening  bath  and  wrhile  the  clouds  were  yet 
stained  with  crimson  and  purple,  Aratus  ar- 
rived at  the  appointed  place  of  meeting.  The 
dwarf  was  already  there.  In  the  fast  fading 
light  he  looked  less  disreputable  than  at 
noon.  Some  attempt  had  been  made  to  re- 
move from  his  hands  and  face  the  marks  of 
toil.  He  wore  a  dark  cloak  over  his  brown 
tunic,  and  but  for  the  chronic  untidiness  of 
his  hair  and  beard,  and  for  a  decided  limp  in 


168  PLOTTING 

one  leg,  he  would  not  have  attracted  atten- 
tion. 

"We  will  go  a  pace  into  these  woods  and 
rest  upon  the  grass,"  said  the  bellows-blower, 
"although  we  go  not  far  from  the  city  gate 
or  from  the  call  of  the  guard,  for  it  is  said 
that  robbers  infest  the  place  hereabout." 

The  two  walked  in  silence  for  about  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  wall.  When  both 
were  seated  on  the  roots  of  a  gnarled  oak, 
the  dwarf  began  to  speak : 

"Knowest  thou,  Aratus,  that  within  a  mile 
to  the  west  of  thine  own  vineyard  there  are 
people  who  have  entirely  forsaken  our  god- 
dess? I  have  been  to  the  house  and  they 
have  neither  statue  of  Diana,  nor  Jupiter,  nor 
any  of  the  gods,  nor  even  the  images  of  their 
own  ancestors." 

"Hast  thou  brought  me  here  to  tell  me 
this!  There  are  plenty  of  men  in  Ephesus 
who  wrorship  neither  god  nor  goddess!" 

"But  these  people  of  whom  I  speak  declare 
the  immortal  gods  are  evil  spirits  and  lying 
spirits,  and  that  all  their  worshippers  are  des- 
tined for  the  infernal  regions!" 

"This  is  a  serious  charge!  Art  thou  sure? 
It  would  be  sedition  against  the  emperor. 
Art  sure?" 

"Yes,  I  know  of  what  I  speak.  I  have  kept 
mine  eyes  open.  There  are  many  little  com- 
panies of  these  blasphemers  in  and  around 
Ephesus.  Hadst  thou  known  them  thou 
wouldst  have  observed  that  none  of  them 


PLOTTING  169 

participated  in  this  year's  Artemision.  They 
go  not  to  the  temple  of  Diana,  nor  to  the 
temple  of  any  other  god.  'Tis  said  they  have 
their  own  rules  and  orgies  which  profane 
eyes,  such  as  yours  and  mine,  are  never  al- 
lowed to  see.  A  fellow  workman  of  mine  as- 
sures me  they  devour  children  in  the  dark  of 
the  moon,  worship  the  head  of  an  ass  as  a 
god,  and  do  many  other  monstrous  things. 
'Tis  quite  certain  they  have  many  strange 
mysteries." 

''The  last  monstrosity,  as  thou  callest  it, 
is  not  so  strange,  or  so  very  new,  if  thou  will 
but  think  of  it.  Is  not  one  of  Hecate's  sym- 
bols a  horse's  head?  Do  not  many  worship 
the  symbol  rather  than  the  goddess?  I  ask 
thee  again,  hast  thou  brought  me  here  to 
tell  me  only  this?" 

"Have  patience,  Aratus.  I  have  a  spicy 
morsel  for  thy  tongue.  Wouldst  thou  credit 
me  were  I  to  tell  thee  that  one  of  thy  friends 
hast  joined  these  strange  people?" 

"One  of  my  friends !  I  have  innumerable 
friends.  It  is  not  surprising  that  even  a  friend 
of  Aratus  should  make  a  fool  of  himself." 

"One  of  thine  enemies,  then." 

"I  have  but  one — Andros.  Dost  thou  mean 
him?" 

"Aye." 

"Ha!  This  is  pleasant  news!  Mine  enemy 
a  blasphemer  and  a  forsaker  of  the  gods.  Oh ! 
I  have  him  now!  He  shall  not  escape  my 
clutches.  This  is  better  and  surer  than  the 


170  PLOTTING 

vial  of  Arachne !  I  will  set  the  whole  of  the 
machinery  of  the  temple  to  work.  I  thank 
thee,  good  man,  but — but  art  thou  certain  of 
what  thou  sayest?" 

"Most  certain.  I  have  followed  him  to  the 
old  house  of  Pelopidas  several  times — but 
think  not  I  tell  thee  this  for  thine  own  sake 
alone.  When  thou  dost  set  his  enemies  in 
motion  against  him  thou  art  serving  my  pur- 
poses, too.  I  have  sworn  by  the  dogs  of  Pros- 
erpine that  I  will  be  avenged,  and  thy  de- 
termination to  do  him  harm  by  reason  of  thy 
rivalry  becomes  the  instrument  of  my  own 
desires.  He  shall  find  that  this  misshaped 
body  hath  a  mind  within  it.  Curse  him !  He 
hath  treated  me  as  a  dog — as  one  beneath  re- 
gard. He  shall  learn  that  I  have  a  will  that 
can  work  to  his  undoing.  Thou  art  the  means 
I  choose  to  wreak  my  own  vengeance." 

Aratus  did  not  feel  at  all  complimented 
at  the  role  he  was  forced  into  playing  by  the 
cleverness  of  the  dwarf.  That  this  ill-shapen 
bellows-blower  should  want  to  use  him  for 
his  own  purposes,  and  to  make  use  of  his 
spleen  against  Andros  to  bring  about  his 
own  ends,  was  not  at  all  complimentary  to 
such  a  one  as  Aratus,  who  possessed  an  over- 
abundance of  self-esteem  and  a  large  fund  of 
self-complacency.  He  was  inclined  to  reject 
the  information  as  of  no  concern  of  his,  but 
he  looked  at  the  arms  and  fingers  of  the 
dwarf,  and  realized  their  wonderful  muscu- 
lar strength.  He  saw  with  what  compara- 


PLOTTING  171 

tively  little  effort  those  long  and  strong 
fingers  could  clutch  his  throat  until  the  life 
was  out  of  his  body.  Then,  too,  he  admitted 
that  the  dwarf's  calculations  were  correct. 
He  certainly  would  do  what  he  could  to  in- 
jure Andros,  and  here  was  too  good  an  op- 
portunity to  be  thrown  away.  He  had  but  to 
put  the  megabyses  of  the  temple  on  the  track 
of  his  enemy  and  he  could  confidently  await 
the  results  he  desired. 

The  dwarf  had  thought  all  this  out  care- 
fully. He  had,  in  fact,  chosen  Aratus  to  ac- 
complish his  plans  for  him.  Like  most  of 
the  workmen  in  the  shop  of  Demetrius,  he 
had  come  to  believe  that  the  man  now  sitting 
beside  him  in  the  dark,  was  little  removed 
from  one  who  is  considered  to  be  under  the 
special  protection  of  the  gods.  He  believed 
Aratus  to  be  half  insane — more  than  half  in- 
sane when  there  was  question  of  Andros. 
He  had  long  known  of  the  hatred  arising 
from  the  rivalry,  and  he  determined  to  use 
it  for  his  own  purposes. 

He  did  not  speak  again  for  some  time,  in 
order  to  let  the  information  he  had  given 
sink  deeply  into  the  mind  of  Aratus.  It  was 
with  an  assumed  nonchalance  that  he  pres- 
ently asked: 

"Art  thou  not  rejoiced  now  that  thou  gav- 
est  into  my  care  the  deadly  potion?  Thou 
wilt  not  have  murder  to  answer  for  to  the 
pro-consul." 

"I  am  in  doubt  whether  I  acted  wisely  in 


172  PLOTTING 

letting  thee  have  it,"  replied  Aratus.  "Per- 
haps after  all  its  use  will  be  a  surer  and  a 
quicker  way  to  rid  ourselves  of  him.  What 
thinkestthou?" 

"If  thou  stir  up  the  priests,  and  point  out 
to  them  that  their  reward  will  be  the  fisheries 
in  the  northern  lakes,  and  all  his  sailing  ves- 
sels, and  perhaps  some  well-filled  coffers  in 
his  house,  thou  wilt  have  little  else  to  do. 
But  in  case  they  do  not  move  fast  enough  to 
suit  my  hate — well — I  will  carefully  keep  the 
witch's  vial.  It  may  be  useful  yet." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
"TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?" 

Andros,  happily  unconscious  of  the  plot- 
tings  of  his  enemies,  thought  frequently  of 
the  conversations  he  had  enjoyed  with  Ely- 
mas.  He  pondered  deeply  and  long  over 
them,  argued  with  himself,  sifted  and  probed. 
He  was  not  one  of  those  light  characters 
caught  by  a  passing  fancy.  He  desired  to 
know  the  reason  of  all  things,  and  told  him- 
self that  if  the  tenets  proposed  by  Elymas 
were  found  to  be  contrary  to  reason  he  would 
reject  them  and  cease  his  visits,  which  would 
be  something  that  he  would  regret,  for  he 
had  grown  very  fond  of  the  family. 

He  did  not  find  this  opposition  to  reason, 
but  instead  there  arose  in  his  soul  a  great  de- 
sire to  learn  more  of  the  deity  whom  Elymas 
so  frequently  mentioned  and  whom  he  felt 
sure  was  neither  the  national  goddess  of  the 
Ephesians,  nor  Zeus  of  the  Greeks,  nor  Jupi- 
ter of  the  Romans.  The  attributing  of  hu- 
man qualities,  and  often  of  human  vices,  to 
these  deities  was  something  which  was  alto- 
gether repulsive  to  him.  He  longed  and 
looked  for  a  higher  and  purer  and  more  ideal 
worship.  The  falsehoods  attributed  to  Mer- 
cury, the  inebriety  of  Bacchus,  the  libidi- 

173 


174    "TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?" 

nousness  practiced  in  the  cultus  of  his  Asiatic 
deity,  in  his  calmer  and  higher  moods,  when 
his  mind  was  unruffled,  disgusted  him,  and 
although  at  one  time  or  another  he  had  given 
way  to  one  or  other  of  these  universal  cus- 
toms, yet  the  better  and  nobler  part  of  him 
had  always  rebelled  against  the  excesses  as 
soon  as  his  more  rational  judgment  asserted 
itself. 

Andros  had  grown  very  fond  of  Elymas 
and  his  wife  Joanna.  In  his  frequent  visits 
he  had  become  well  acquainted  with  David 
and  Gedeliah,  and  these  two  boys  and  their 
sisters,  Esther  and  Hannah,  had  come  to 
look  upon  him  almost  as  a  brother.  Joanna 
treated  him  in  a  specially  motherly  fashion 
which  he  keenly  appreciated.  He  gave  her 
much  of  his  confidence.  Long  before  the 
summer  had  waned  he  had  poured  into  her 
sympathetic  ear  the  story  of  his  love  for 
Lydda.  After  some  judicious  questions  by 
which  she  satisfied  herself  as  to  the  character 
and  disposition  of  Lydda,  which  a  lover's 
ardor  had  unconsciously  yet  absurdly  col- 
ored, and  for  which  she,  in  her  motherly 
wisdom,  had  made  due  allowance,  she 
encouraged  him  to  press  his  suit. 

"If  she  is  worthy  of  thee,  Andros,  she  must 
in  time  acknowledge  the  ardor  of  thy  love," 
she  said. 

"Worthy!  She  is  a  divinity!  Worthy! 
Oh !  Joanna,  I  shall  never  be  worthy  of  her." 

"Nevertheless,  do  thou  try  to  win  her." 


"TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?"     175 

"Thou  art  truly  kind.  I  would  that  she 
knew  thee.  Thou  hast  been  almost  a  mother 
to  me  since  thou  didst  shelter  me  when  my 
life  was  in  danger." 

Joanna  had  certainly  grown  very  fond  of 
him.  -She  was  tempted  to  tell  him  some  very 
interesting  things,  but  she  refrained,  realiz- 
ing the  time  was  not  yet  ripe  for  any  dis- 
closures. 

The  evening  meal  was  served  and  partaken 
of  with  that  usual  joyous  yet  gentle  hilarity 
which  so  frequently  charmed  Andros  and 
brought  him  again  and  again  to  the  house 
for  the  pleasure  of  witnessing  and  participat- 
ing in  it. 

When  the  repast  was  finished  Elymas  and 
Andros  repaired  to  the  western  veranda  of 
the  house  to  watch  the  glories  of  the  setting 
sun.  From  their  elevated  position  on  the 
southwestern  slope  of  Mount  Coressus  they 
looked  over  a  beautiful  country  toward  the 
sea.  Vineyards  and  meadows,  fields  of  wav- 
ing corn  and  here  and  there  a  cluster  of  forest 
trees,  checkered  and  diversified  the  land- 
scape, beautified  by  the  golden  haze  of  the 
setting  sun.  Long  the  two  friends  sat  in  the 
splendor  of  the  evening  light,  fairly  intoxi- 
cated with  its  delights. 

The  short  Asiatic  twilight  came  at  length 
and  was  quickly  followed  by  a  star-lit  ni^ht 
even  more  beautiful  than  the  dying  day.  The 
two  sat  in  quiet  contemplation.  The  thoughts 
of  both  were,  at  that  hour,  too  solemnly 


176    "TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?" 

beautiful  to  be  marred  by  the  inconsequent 
chatter  of  friendship. 

Elymas  grew  more  solemn  and  thoughtful 
as  the  minutes  passed.  He  was  revolving 
some  great  project  in  his  mind.  He  had  long 
learned  to  love  this  bright  young  Ephesian 
and  sincerely  wished  him  well.  He  was  de- 
bating within  himself  whether  this  was  a  pro- 
pitious occasion  to  unfold  to  his  young  friend 
at  least  a  part  of  his  own  belief.  Several 
times  he  was  on  the  point  of  speaking,  and 
then  thought  better  of  it  and  remained  si- 
lent. At  last  he  decided  he  would  speak. 

"Thou  hast  known  me  for  some  months," 
he  began,  "and  thou  must  have  perceived 
that  we  are  not  of  thy  race." 

"That  I  know  full  well,"  answered  Andros, 
"but  thou  hast  been  a  good  friend  to  me.  Tell 
me,  I  pray,  the  secret  of  thy  kindness." 

"Of  that  anon.  Thou  hast  observed  that 
we  worship  not  Diana,  nor  any  of  the  gods." 

"That  I  have  perceived  long  since.  At  first 
I  wondered  at  this.  Thou  hast  neither  shrine 
nor  waxen  image  of  an  ancestor." 

"I  will  unfold  to  thee  the  reason.  My 
friendship  for  thee  and  the  desire  I  have  to 
do  thee  good  make  me  take  this  risk.  We 
have  a  higher,  purer,  and  a  holier  religion 
than  thou  hast  ever  known.  If  thou  wilt  but 
accept  it,  it  will  satisfy  all  the  nobler  crav- 
ings of  thine  unsatisfied  soul.  Thou  knowest, 
from  thine  own  experience,  that  thou  art  not 
happy  in  thy  present  unsettled  state  of  mind. 


"TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?"     177 

An  intellect  such  as  thou  possessest  can 
never  be  satisfied  with  less  than  the  worship 
of  the  true  God.  Tell  me  plainly — one  who 
wishes  thee  nought  but  good — speak  from 
thine  inmost  heart  and  say  that  thou  dost 
not  in  reality  accept  thine  Asian  Diana  as  a 
real  divinity." 

The  request  was  startling  to  Andros,  the 
more  so  as  his  doubts  and  difficulties  on  the 
subject  had  recently  grown  stronger  in  pro- 
portion as  he  had  allowed  his  thought  to 
dwell  thereon.  His  recent  cogitations,  his 
bitter  disappointment  at  the  raising  of  the 
parapetasma  in  the  temple,  his  and  Lydda's 
disappointment  in  their  hope  of  a  return  to 
saner  and  more  ideal  conditions  in  the  wor- 
ship of  the  goddess,  and,  above  all,  the  in- 
ward consciousness  that  the  orgies  which 
accompanied  the  worship  were  far  beneath 
the  dignity  of  a  human  intelligence,  which 
he  realized  had  something  godlike  in  it,  all 
conspired  to  make  the  statement  of  Elymas 
bear  the  impress  of  truth. 

He  realized  the  disinterestedness  of  the 
speaker  at  his  side.  He  remembered  how  he 
had  saved  his  life  and  put  his  pursuers  off 
the  scent,  and  how  he  had  refused  all  com- 
pensation. The  kindly  welcome  he  received 
on  his  now  frequent  visits  many  times  con- 
vinced him  of  the  true  nature  of  Elymas' 
tried  friendship.  He  felt  at  this  moment,  out 
under  the  solemn  stars,  that  his  friend  was 
about  to  offer  him  some  substantial  benefit. 


178    "TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?" 

He  knew  not  what  it  was  to  be,  but  never 
did  he  doubt  the  ingenuousness  of  his  friend's 
intentions. 

And  yet,  to  make  the  admission  was,  in  a 
sense,  to  denationalize  himself,  to  declare 
himself  a  renegade  from  the  faith  of  his  an- 
cestors. Should  he  admit  the  statement  pro- 
posed to  him  he  believed  that  it  meant  social 
ostracism,  for  he  was  too  earnest  a  character 
to  do  anything  by  halves.  His  heart  prompt- 
ed him  to  admit  the  supposition,  his  inclina- 
tions and  his  life's  habits  were  equally  ur- 
gent in  demanding  a  repulse. 

"Were  I  to  admit  that,"  he  replied,  at 
length,  "all  the  beauty  and  all  the  joy  would 
vanish  from  my  life.  Degraded  as  is  the 
worship  of  Diana  at  present,  those  who  can 
look  beyond  the  sensuous  veil  can  see  the 
aesthetic  and  the  beautiful  in  it." 

"But,  dear  friend,  granting  this  to  be  true 
for  the  chosen  few,  can  the  mere  love  of  the 
beautiful  satisfy  the  human  soul?  Use  your 
reason.  Can  a  worship  which  fosters  licen- 
tiousness, deifies  the  vices,  and  laughs  at 
crime,  be  of  divine  origin?  You  know  that 
it  cannot.  Then,  if  that  be  so,  the  deity  which 
you  have  worshipped  ignorantly  in  your 
youth — must  be  false." 

"But  where  shall  I  go?"  said  Andros,  with 
a  certain  amount  of  agony  in  his  voice  which 
the  new  thoughts  had  engendered.  "I  must 
acknowledge  a  supreme  being  of  some  kind. 
My  very  nature — all  human  nature — calls 


"TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?"     179 

aloud  for  it.  If  Diana  be  false — if — "  He 
stopped  suddenly.  The  influx  of  many  new 
thoughts  rendered  him  speechless. 

After  what  he  considered  a  sufficient 
pause,  Elymas  said  solemnly: 

"Andros,  didst  thou  ever,  on  some  such 
beautiful  night  as  this,  watch  the  stars  in 
their  courses?  Hast  thou  ever  considered 
their  orderly  and  varied  movements?  Canst 
thou  explain  the  never-failing  order  of  the 
succession  of  night  and  day?  Is  it  not  a 
mystery  to  thee  that,  year  after  year,  with 
never  failing  regularity,  the  trees  bud  forth 
and  leaf  and  blossom  and  bear  fruit,  and 
then,  when  summer  is  gone,  lose  their  foli- 
age; and  all  this  with  a  regularity  and  order 
that  never  varies  with  the  succeeding  years? 
Hath  it  never  impressed  thee  that  one  kind 
of  tree  always  bears  the  same  kind  of  fruit, 
and  another  a  different  kind,  with  unceasing 
fidelity?  Thou  wouldst  laugh  at  me  as  one 
demented  were  I  to  attempt  to  gather  grapes 
from  the  elms  that  support  the  vines." 

"I  certainly  should,  good  Elymas." 

"But  dost  thou  not  see  there  is  order  and 
design  in  all  this?  Where  there  are  these 
two  qualities,  which  thou  must  admit  belong 
only  to  intelligent  beings,  there  must  be  a 
personal  power  directing  nature.  Thou  wilt 
admit  that  none  but  a  God  could  create  this 
universe.  Thou,  or  any  other  human  being, 
as  thou  knowest,  couldst  not  create  a  blade 
of  grass.  If,  then,  as  shown  by  order  and 


180     "TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?" 

design,  there  is  a  personality  in  the  creator, 
this  creator  must  be  a  personal  God." 

"That  I  see,"  admitted  Andros  thought- 
fully. 

"That  personal  God,  whom  thou  grantest 
hath  created  all  things,  must  then  be  infi- 
nite." 

"Yes,  the  creator  of  all  things  must  be 
infinite." 

"Then,  to  be  logical,  thou  must  admit  that 
as  he  is  infinite,  there  can  be  but  one  God,  for 
dost  thou  not  perceive  that  it  would  be  a  con- 
tradiction, by  the  very  meaning  of  the  word, 
to  admit  two  infinite  beings?  Is  it  not  clear 
to  thee  that  Zeus,  or  Diana,  or  any  other  god 
or  goddess  cannot  have  real  existence?  Ad- 
mit now,  my  friend,  that  thou  canst  no 
longer  say  that  Diana  is  a  real  divinity." 

"But  to  whom,  then,  shall  I  go?"  asked 
Andros,  as  he  stretched  out  his  arms  in  an 
imploring  and  somewhat  pathetic  manner. 

"To  that  personal  infinite  God  who  rules 
the  universe,"  answered  Elymas. 

"Will  he  satisfy  me?  WTill  he,  can  he,  rise 
to  my  ideal  of  the  beautiful?  I  confess  to 
thee  that  Diana  has  fallen  far  short  of  this." 

"The  God  whom  I  worship,  Andros,  is  all 
beautiful.  Thou  hast  seen  and  canst  appre- 
ciate the  beauties  of  this  wonderful  earth  of 
ours.  Could  mortal  finger  paint  those  clouds 
we  have  just  seen  aglow  with  living  colors? 
Can  the  artist  paint  the  rainbow,  or  blend  its 
tints  in  such  perfection  as  we  see  in  nature? 


"TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?"     181 

Who  can  create  the  liquid  notes  of  the  night- 
ingale? Can  mortal  man  fashion  the  petals 
of  the  rose  or  produce  the  beauty  of  the  deli- 
cate lily?  Spreadest  thou  the  purple  haze  on 
the  evening  hills?  What  more  brilliantly 
beautiful  than  the  sun  at  noon  save,  perhaps, 
the  silver  sheen  of  the  skies  at  night  in  their 
softened  beauty?  Who  giveth  lustre  to  the 
silver  shining  moon?  Why  do  we  admire 
bravery  and  courage  and  honor?  Are  they 
not  reflections  of  that  divine  beauty  residing 
in  God?  Yes,  Andros,  thou  shalt  find  in  the 
only  true  God  all  the  beauty  thy  soul  craves. 
Thou  wilt  grant  that  the  world  with  all  its 
beauty  could  not  have  created  itself,  for  thou 
seest  that  then  it  would  be  acting  before  ex- 
isting. Some  power  must  have  made  it.  No 
one  can  give  that  which  he  does  not  possess. 
Therefore,  is  it  not  clear  that  the  giver  of  all 
this  beauty  to  the  earth  must  himself  be 
beautiful,  and  even  surpass  thy  ideals  of 
beauty?" 

"Say  no  more,  good  Elymas;  thou  per- 
suadest  me  to  accept  thy  God." 

"May  the  God  thou  acceptest  bless  thee. 
He  shall  fill  thy  heart  with  love.  Ah!  why 
that  impatient  shrug  of  the  shoulders  ?  Thou 
art  thinking  of  thy  Lydda.  His  love  in  thee 
shall  exist  side  by  side  with  that  human  love 
he  hath  given  thee.  There  is  room  in  thy 
heart  for  both." 

"I  feared  I  should  have  to  relinquish  my 
love  for  her  for  whom  I  would  die." 


182    "TO  WHOM  SHALL  I  GO?" 

"Not  so.  That  human  love  in  thy  heart  is 
given  thee  by  God.  Cultivate  it  to  thy 
heart's  desire,  and  may  the  God  who  im- 
planted it  in  thy  breast  bless  thee  in  it." 

"I  would  hear  more  about  this  great  God 
of  thine,"  said  Andros. 

Elymas  judged  that  he  had  told  the  young 
man  sufficient  for  one  time.  He  would  let 
him  ponder  well  over  what  he  had  already 
learned  before  going  further. 

"Seest  thou  how  low  the  evening  star  has 
declined?  Come  again  as  soon  as  thou  find- 
est  it  convenient,  for  I  have  many  things  to 
tell  thee." 


CHAPTER  XX 
SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

The  exquisite  odor  of  numberless  roses 
perfumed  the  still,  summer  atmosphere  of 
the  peristyle  of  the  house  of  Mellanides. 
They  were  everywhere  in  the  open  court. 
Between  the  marble  columns  blossom-bear- 
ing bushes  in  boxes  had  been  arranged.  On 
the  pavement  slaves  had  scattered  many 
armfuls  in  lavish  profusion.  In  every  avail- 
able corner  tall  vases  held  rarest  specimens. 
Large  branches  of  the  climbing  varieties,  in 
the  glory  of  full  bloom,  were  twined  around 
the  marble  columns.  The  peristyle,  with  its 
Ionic  columns  of  severe  architecture,  was  a 
riot  of  color. 

Mellanides  was  especially  fond  of  this  par- 
ticular flower  and  of  its  distinctive  odor.  As 
Lydda  had  expressed  the  delight  that  roses 
afforded  her,  the  old  warrior  had  given 
orders  to  the  slaves  that  she  was  to  be  abun- 
dantly supplied  from  the  rose  gardens  when- 
ever she  desired. 

A  few  days  after  the  meeting  of  Andros 
and  Elymas,  Lydda  occupied  her  favorite 
marble  bench  at  the  head  of  the  short  flight 
of  steps  that  led  down  to  the  waters  of  the 
impluvium.  She  was  fairly  embowered  in 

183 


184       SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

blossoms.  More  beautiful  than  even  the 
roses,  she  presented  an  entrancing  picture 
of  feminine  grace  and  loveliness  as  she  half 
reclined  on  the  marble  bench,  her  feet  on  a 
footstool,  and  her  long,  tapering  ringers 
clasped  around  her  knees.  She  appeared, 
however,  preoccupied  and  rather  ill  at  ease 
and  restless.  Occasionally  she  would  take 
up  the  chelys,  or  tortoise-shell  lyre,  and  pick 
a  soft,  sweet  air  on  the  instrument,  or  strike 
a  bolder  chord.  She  soon  tired  of  this,  and 
sent  an  attendant  for  the  phorminx  and 
plectrum,  on  which  she  was  no  mean  per- 
former. But  on  this  afternoon  she  did  not 
seem  able  to  concentrate  her  attention  on 
the  larger  lyre,  or  upon  any  particular  occu- 
pation or  amusement. 

That  day  she  had  suffered  more  annoy- 
ance than  usual  from  the  attentions  of  Ara- 
tus,  who,  as  his  financial  condition  reached 
the  lowest  ebb,  became  more  importunate 
in  urging  his  suit.  Before  this  time,  and 
again  to-day,  Lydda  had  told  him  that  she 
could  never  give  him  her  hand,  and  for  the 
most  elementary  of  all  reasons — she  did  not 
love  him.  This  reiterated  declaration  ap- 
peared to  have  the  effect  of  causing  him  to 
become  more  importunate.  This  afternoon 
his  manner  of  urging  his  suit  had  approached 
to  a  species  of  ferocity. 

To  add  to  her  vexation,  Andros,  on  whom 
she  much  relied,  had  not  visited  her  villa  for 
several  days.  She  knew  not  the  reason  of 


SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE        185 

his  absence,  and  he,  at  present,  had  no  inten- 
tion of  telling  her  of  his  preoccupation  of 
mind  on  account  of  the  new  thoughts  Ely- 
mas  had  given  him,  and  which  were  in  real- 
ity epochal  for  him.  Her  father  was  old. 
Every  day  he  was  becoming  more  feeble 
and  less  able  to  protect  her  against  the 
unwelcome  attentions  of  Aratus. 

At  times,  when  she  allowed  herself  the 
luxury  of  day-dreaming,  she  would  come 
out  of  one  with  a  frightened  expression  on 
her  face.  What  if  Aratus,  in  the  ardor  of 
his  wooing,  should  attempt  to  carry  her  off 
by  force  or  strategy,  and  compel  her  to  be- 
come his  wife!  That  very  day  he  had  sworn 
by  all  the  gods  that  he  would,  in  the  end, 
make  her  his  wife,  and  compel  her  love. 
That  should  never  be,  she  told  herself.  She 
would  love  him  alone  whom  she  freely  chose 
to  love.  Violence  might  be  used  to  carry  her 
away,  but  she  would  never  bestow  her  hand 
except  by  her  own  free  choice. 

It  was  not  very  surprising  that  Lydda 
should  be  somewhat  afraid  for  her  safety. 
The  peristyle  around  the  impluvium  was 
open  at  one  end,  and  she  lived  here  out-of- 
doors  the  greater  part  of  each  day.  The  steps 
at  the  farthest  end  of  the  court  led  down  to 
the  lawn,  and  the  river  Caystrus  was  not  far 
away.  The  wall  that  enclosed  the  house 
and  garden  could  be  easily  scaled,  or  one  of 
the  scores  of  slaves  be  bribed  to  leave  one 
of  the  gates  unlocked.  Access  was,  there- 


186       SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

fore,  easy  to  the  peristyle  and  to  the  rooms 
of  the  mansion.  Her  father  could  be  si- 
lenced without  difficulty.  Two  men,  or 
three,  would  find  it  no  great  labor  to  abduct 
her,  if  they  were  determined  of  purpose. 
Her  slaves?  She  could  not  be  sure  that  they 
were  or  would  remain  faithful  where,  of  a 
surety,  plenty  of  gold  would  reward  their 
complicity. 

She  thought  so  long  on  such  a  possibility 
as  this  that  she  worked  herself  into  a  nerv- 
ous condition  bordering  on  tears  and  hys- 
teria, realizing,  or  at  least  imagining,  that 
amid  all  her  luxury  and  unlimited  wealth, 
she  was  much  alone  and  without  a  real 
protector. 

It  was  a  relief  to  her  at  this  juncture  when 
the  steward  announced  the  arrival  of  Andros. 
She  ran  impulsively  to  the  door  leading  from 
the  atrium  to  greet  him. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad — so  glad  that  thou  hast 
come  at  last !  Truant !  where  wert  thou  these 
many  days?  Doth  the  house  of  Mellanides 
no  longer  offer  attractions  for  thee?" 

Andros'  heart-beats  quickened  at  this  salu- 
tation. Not  being  aware  of  the  highly 
wrought  state  of  her  feelings,  he  not  un- 
naturally thought — the  wish  being  father  to 
the  thought — that  the  warmth  of  greeting 
was  on  his  account. 

"The  house  of  Mellanides  oflereth  the  on!;, 
attraction  in  all  Asia." 


SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE       187 

"  'Twas  not  a  very  strong  lode-stone  which 
could  not  draw  thee  here  these  many  days." 

"Had  I  but  known  that  thou  desiredst  me 
to  come,  I  would  have  flown  hither  on  the 
wings  of  the  wind." 

"Oh,  I  have  felt  so  lonesome — lonesome — 
without  thee!  I  have  all  kinds  of  fears  when 
thou  art  away.  I  am  very  fearful." 

"Would  that  I  could  always  stay  with  thee 
to  drive  such  thoughts  away!  What  hast 
thou,  daughter  of  the  warrior  Mellanides,  to 
fear?" 

"Oh,  fearful  thoughts !  There!  I  will  not 
tell  thee  now,  but  rather  rejoice  in  thy  com- 
ing. Why  hast  thou  been  so  long  away? 
W^here  hast  thou  been  and  what  hast  thou 
done?  Come,  sit  here  amid  the  roses.  Are 
they  not  beautiful — earth's  gifts  to  the  sun? 
The  slaves  bring  me  large  armfuls  every  day. 
Which  wilt  thou  have,  my  Andros?  Red — 
red  for  love!  Yellow  for  the  gold  of  good- 
ness. WThite — what  does  white  represent? 
White  for  death!  Eugh!  I  want  not  white. 
Which  wilt  thou  choose?" 

Andros  selected  from  the  profusion  of 
blooms  a  deep  red  blossom  and  gave  the  girl 
at  his  side  a  similar  one,  in  which  she  nerv- 
ously buried  her  face,  as  if  to  calm  her  ex- 
citement by  its  delicious  perfume.  He  saw 
that  the  mistress  of  the  villa,  who  was  noted 
among  her  acquaintances  for  her  Juno-like 
calmness,  was  now  laboring  under  the  effect 
of  some  stress  of  excitement.  Her  speech  at 


188        SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

times  seemed  scarcely  under  her  control. 
She  talked  rapidly,  and  occasionally  almost 
incoherently,  as  if  making  an  effort  to  hide 
some  secret. 

"Lydda,  thou  art  not  thyself  to-day,"  be- 
gan Andros. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,  I  am!  I  am  myself.  There 
is  nothing  the  matter  with  me.  Art  thou 
free  from  danger?  Listen!  Hearest  thou 
that  peacock's  screech?  'Tis  a  portent  of 
evil  for  some  one.  Does  it  not  sound  omi- 
nous? Eugh!  I  will  have  them  all  killed. 
Ho,  steward — ,"  and  she  shivered  nerv- 
ously. 

"Wait,  dear  lady,"  persuaded  Andros,  "act 
not  rashly.  'Tis  said  their  screech  betoken- 
eth  nothing  worse  than  rain.  Do  not  do 
away  with  the  beautiful  creatures.  There! 
See  that  one  on  the  low  parapet  yonder. 
How  gorgeously  he  spreadeth  his  many-hued 
feathers!  Is  he  not  clothed  in  magnificent 
attire?" 

"Juno's  birds!  No,  I  will  not  kill  them. 
They  are  too  beautiful.  Nothing  beautiful 
ought  to  die.  Nothing  should  die!" 

"Then  thou  wert  immortal,  fair  one !  Art 
thou  ill,  Lydda?" 

"No,  no.  I  am  well.  Why  dost  thou 
ask?" 

"Is  thy  father  well?" 

"He  groweth  very  old.  Oh,  death,  cold, 
dark  death,  will  come  to  him  ere  long." 


SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE        189 

She  shuddered.  Turning  suddenly  to 
Andros,  she  asked: 

"Andros,  promise  me  that  thou  wilt  inurn 
his  ashes  in  the  costliest  urn  thou  canst  pro- 
cure. Promise!  Promise!" 

"Let  us  not  talk  on  this.  May  he  live  long 
years  yet." 

"Yes,  yes.  He  shall.  He  must.  He  is 
beautiful  to  me.  Beautiful  things  must  not 
die." 

"Then,  I  repeat,  thou  oughtest  to  be  im- 
mortal, for  no  one  living  is  more  beautiful 
than  thou." 

"A  pretty  compliment!  Where  hast  thou 
learned  such  courteous  phrases  ?  Not  among 
the  men  who  man  thy  ships  or  catch  thy  fish 
for  thee." 

"I  caught  them  most  from  thee,  my  pre- 
ceptress, or  at  least  thou  art  their  inspira- 
tion." 

"Am  I  an  inspiration  to  thee,  Andros?" 

"Indeed  thou  art.  Thou  art  ever  in  my 
thoughts.  Thou  art  a  guide  for  all  my  ac- 
tions. What  wouldst  thou  say,  fair  lady,  if 
a  new  god  were  to  tell  thee  that  human  love 
was  one  of  his  best  gifts  to  mortals?" 

"This  new  god  would  tell  us  nothing  new," 
she  replied. 

"Yet  some  people  seriously  doubt  it. 
There  are  so  many  uncertainties  and  pangs 
in  love." 

"They  are  wrong — wrong,  Andros.  Love 
is  true.  Love  is  noble.  Love  is  real.  'Tis 


190       SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

woman's  glory — the  real  nobility  of  man. 
How  can  there  be  doubt  concerning  mortal 
love?  If  love  be  true,  thy  god,  whether  he 
be  new  or  old,  must  be  more  of  a  god  in  giv- 
ing than  in  withholding  it.  No  religion 
which  is  true  would  in  any  way  antagonize 
it,  but  would  rather  develop  and  elevate  it." 

The  lover  was  surprised  to  hear  such  sen- 
timents pass  the  lips  of  Lydda.  For  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  her  talk  he  said: 

"What  if  thou  findest  me  a  skeptic?" 

"Then,  dear  friend,  I  would  be  thy  teacher. 
I  would  show  thy  skepticism  to  be  impos- 
sible while  men  and  women  have  hearts  that 
beat  and  minds  that  know  and  souls  that  can 
appreciate  goodness.  This  is  what  it  is  to  a 
woman  who  loves.  This  is  what  thou  shalt 
find  when  thou  discoverest  the  woman  that 
loves  thee.  He  is  the  life  of  her  life,  her 
joy,  her  recompense.  For  him  she  thinks, 
speaks,  moves,  breathes!  He  is  to  her  her 
all,  her  very  life.  She  is  the  clinging  vine, 
he  the  sturdy  oak  to  which  she  looks  for 
support  and  strength.  All  her  thoughts  are 
of  him;  her  affections,  even  to  pain,  she  sur- 
renders to  him.  Let  her  love  be  trifled  with, 
and  woman  becomes  a  very  human  tigress. 
Such  is  love  in  woman,  O  Andros.  How 
canst  thou  doubt  of  its  truth,  its  reality?" 

Her  enthusiasm  had  flushed  her  face, 
which  was  more  lovely  than  ever  under  the 
stimulus  of  her  own  speech.  She  was  pant- 
ing a  little  from  excitement,  and  as  she 


SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE       191 

leaned  back  on  the  bench,  Andros  thought 
that  she  never  had  looked  more  beautiful. 
Through  very  delight  he  maintained  the 
attitude  of  the  skeptic. 

"Thy  disciple  is  still  unconvinced.  Such 
qualities  as  thou  portrayest  belong  to  the 
gods  rather  than  to  mortals." 

"I  tell  thee,"  replied  Lydda,  very  earnestly, 
"thou  dost  not  know  a  woman's  heart. 
When  she  loves,  all  the  energies  and  powers 
of  her  soul  go  with  it.  He  whom  she  loves 
is  her  sun,  her  light,  the  guide  of  her  life! 
To  him  she  is  devoted  in  a  way  that  even  the 
object  of  her  love  is  incapable  of  realizing. 
Every  pulse  of  her  heart,  every  thought  of 
her  mind  is  for  him.  He  possesses,  controls, 
dominates  her.  Such  is  true  love  of  a 
woman  for  a  man.  If  there  be  a  true  god, 
or  one  of  whom  I  have  never  heard,  whose 
priests  teach  this  doctrine  of  human  love 
as  well  as  divine  love,  I  am  ready  to  accept 
that  divinity,  for  this  is  truth." 

"I  have  heard  it  said  that  love  is  one  of 
the  most  benign  of  gifts,"  said  Andros,  as 
Lydda  paused.  He  was  thinking  of  that 
sentence  of  Elymas  which  gave  him  so  much 
consolation  and  which  he  repeated  to  him- 
self many  times  a  day.  With  the  frequent 
repetition  had  come  the  consoling  conclusion 
that  in  some  way  or  another,  at  present  ob- 
scure to  him,  his  own  love  affair  would  end 
happily.  He  could  not  explain  why  this 
feeling  came  to  him,  yet  the  conviction  had 


192        SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

grown  stronger  day  by  day  ever  since  he  had 
declared  himself  willing  to  accept  the  one 
true  God.  A  change  was  manifest  in  him. 
He  had  grown  more  gentle,  more  kindly  to 
all.  There  was  a  softer  word  on  his  lips 
now.  The  glance  of  his  eye  was  more  sym- 
pathetic toward  suffering  and  want. 

"Benign!"  said  Lydda.  "Of  course  it  is 
benign.  It  is  godlike.  No  greater  blessing 
comes  from  the  gods  to  mortals." 

"What  dost  thou  imagine  should  be  the 
qualities  of  the  man  who  loves?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  Andros,  how  can  I  answer?  I  know 
not  a  man's  heart.  I  can  only  describe  a 
woman's,  and  what  I  know  she  is  capable  of 
when  she  truly  loves." 

"Come,  pretty  one,  tell  me  what  qualities 
thou  thinkest  should  be  in  him  who  would 
call  himself  a  lover.  I  would  like  to  know  a 
woman's  view,  and  in  that  mirror  examine 
mine  own  shortcomings." 

"I  cannot  catalogue  a  man's  virtues,"  said 
Lydda,  slowly,  with  a  sudden  and  unaccount- 
able shyness.  She  began  pulling  to  pieces 
the  petals  of  a  crimson  rose  and  scattering 
them.  Her  former  maidenly  reserve  ap- 
peared again  suddenly  to  enwrap  her.  In  a 
few  minutes  she  was  the  Lydda  of  an  hour 
before,  poised  and  exteriorly  unemotional. 

Andros  sat  near  her  in  silence  for  some 
time,  amusedly  watching  her  pluck  to  pieces 
one  rose  after  another.  He  used  all  his  per- 
suasiveness to  induce  Lydda  to  picture  the 


SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE        193 

qualities  of  an  ideal  lover.  His  efforts  were 
of  no  avail,  for  she  seemed  no  longer  to  care 
to  discuss  the  subject.  After  repeated  un- 
successful attempts,  he  attributed  his  failure 
to  the  emotional  fickleness  of  woman's  na- 
ture, a  quality  which,  he  mentally  remarked, 
she  had  not  enumerated. 

When  Andros  had  departed,  after  the  eve- 
ning meal,  Lydda  regretted  that  she  had  not 
made  known  to  him  her  fears  with  regard  to 
the  possible  violence  from  Aratus,  and  his 
increasing  assertiveness.  That  which  now 
caused  her  blushes  of  mortification  was  the 
remembrance  of  the  freedom  with  which  she 
had  spoken  of  love.  Had  he  read  in  her 
impassioned  sentences  the  secret  of  her 
heart?  She  had  confided  this  secret  to  no 
one  but  the  matronly  woman  of  the  large 
house  on  the  other  side  of  the  Caystrus. 
From  the  time  of  her  first  visit  a  friendship 
had  sprung  up,  and  she  had  often  gone  across 
the  river  since  the  accident.  She  had  learned 
to  love  and  confide  in  her  who  presided  over 
the  household. 

As  children,  she  and  Andros  had  been 
playmates  together.  Now,  in  her  full  bloom 
and  beauty  of  womanhood,  there  was  no 
other  person  who  so  filled  her  mind  as  he  did. 
She  admired  his  manly  character  and  sturdy, 
developing  manhood  as  the  years  slipped  by 
in  rapid  succession.  In  reality,  for  a  long 
time  she  had  been  deeply  in  love  with  the 

friend  of  her  childhood.    He  was  her  stand- 
is 


194        SHORT  OF  HIS  DESIRE 

ard  of  manly  excellence,  but  his  reticence  had 
forced  upon  her  a  reserve  of  manner  which 
she  longed  to  have  opportunity  to  let  drop 
away. 

In  this  conversation  she  suddenly  realized 
that  she  was  probably  showing  her  own 
heart  too  openly.  When  Andros  had  asked 
her  to  describe  a  male  lover  she  was  aware, 
had  she  attempted  the  task,  he  would  have 
recognized  himself  in  the  picture.  Hence, 
in  order  not  to  betray  herself,  her  sudden 
change  of  manner  to  shyness  and  an  appear- 
ance of  indifference  and  even  coldness. 

Andros  was  puzzled  but  not  discouraged. 
He  regarded  this  shyness  as  a  distinctly  fa- 
vorable omen.  He  resolved  that  on  the  occa- 
sion of  his  next  visit  to  the  villa  he  would 
venture  all  and  ask  her  hand  in  marriage, 
but  many  strange  happenings  were  to  come 
to  pass  before  they  met  again. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WINNING  A  FRIEND 

Although  Andros  had  not  mentioned  his 
new  belief  in  the  one  God  to  Lydda,  owing 
to  the  excited  state  in  which  he  had  found 
her,  yet  he  had  gone  to  the  mansion  for  that 
express  purpose.  He  saw  that  it  would  be 
impossible  and  worse  than  useless  to  intro- 
duce so  grave  a  subject  when  her  mind  was 
so  evidently  perturbed  over  something  the 
nature  of  which  he  had  not  the  remotest 
idea.  He  resolved  to  see  her  again  at  the 
first  opportunity  and  propound  to  her  the 
great  thoughts  and  ideas  he  had  learned  from 
Elymas.  His  new  faith  was  daily  growing 
and  taking  a  stronger  vitalizing  hold  upon 
him. 

With  the  knowledge  already  acquired,  he 
saw  plainly  that  of  necessity  his  old  habits 
and  ways  of  thinking  would  in  time  drop 
away  from  him.  He  found  no  difficulty  in 
renouncing  the  public  worship  of  Diana. 
This  had  long  disgusted  him  by  its  attendant 
licentiousness,  although  the  pageantry  of 
the  ritual  processions  had  pleased  his  love  of 
color  and  display.  With  the  domestic  habits 
of  his  dailyjife  he  was  to  find  more  difficulty. 
The  habits  of  a  lifetime  are  not  overcome  in 

195 


196          WINNING  A  FRIEND 

an  hour,  nor  are  lifelong  customs  dropped 
without  a  struggle. 

To  the  amazement  of  the  slaves  of  his 
household,  he  relegated  a  beautiful  shrine, 
the  chief  ornament  of  his  own  living-room, 
to  an  unused  room  at  the  top  of  his  house. 
One  by  one  the  various  symbols  of  the  wor- 
ship of  the  goddess  as  Diana,  or  Hecate,  or 
Luna  or  Magos,  which,  as  works  of  art, 
were  adornments  of  his  walls,  were  quietly 
removed,  and,  if  not  unostentatiously  de- 
stroyed, were  sold. 

His  acceptance  of  the  belief  in  the  One 
God  had  been  complete  and  entire.  He  had 
seen  the  force  and  had  accepted  the  teach- 
ings of  Elymas.  For  years  he  had  culti- 
vated the  society  of  those  philosophers  who 
frequently  wandered  from  Athens  to  Ephe- 
sus.  His  choice  of  reading  had  been  of  the 
more  solid  kind  in  preference  to  the  light, 
frivolous  romances  for  which  Ephesus  was 
so  famous  in  his  day.  He  was,  consequently, 
in  a  better  mental  condition  to  be  able  to 
grasp  readily  a  teaching  founded  more  on 
abstract  reasoning  than  on  imagination,  or 
that  which  appealed  merely  to  the  senses. 

The  satisfaction  he  experienced  in  know- 
ing that  if  he  accepted  the  new  God  proposed 
to  him  by  Elymas  he  would  not  be  required 
to  relinquish  his  love  for  Lydda  was  intense. 
He  repeated  to  himself  over  and  over  again 
the  words  of  Elymas,  "Human  love  is  a  be- 
nign gift  of  God  to  man.  Cultivate  it  to  thy 


WINNING  A  FRIEND  197 

heart's  desire,  and  may  the  God  who  gave  it 
to  thee,  bless  thee  in  it." 

This  advice,  probably  more  than  any  other 
cause,  disposed  him  to  listen  with  docility, 
and  to  accept  other  and  higher  doctrines 
when  he  again  visited  Elymas. 

In  the  meantime  he  passed  through  a 
phase  of  mental  perturbation  which  caused 
him  no  little  trouble.  He  remembered  that 
in  the  workshop  of  Demetrius  there  was 
awaiting  him  a  silver  shrine  of  the  goddess 
Diana,  intended  by  him  as  a  present  to 
Lydda  on  her  next  birthday.  He  saw  clearly 
that  if  he  accepted  the  worship  of  the  one 
true  God  he  could  no  longer  buy,  have,  or 
give  to  another  an  image  of  a  false  god.  This 
was  evident  and  clear  to  his  upright  mind. 
What  should  he  do?  A  thought  came  to  him 
to  present  it  to  her  as  a  work  of  art  merely, 
abstracting  from  its  religious  signification; 
but  he  was  of  too  thorough  and  manly  a 
character  to  adopt  such  a  subterfuge.  The 
work  on  the  shrine  was  already  completed. 
In  a  few  days  Demetrius  and  his  workmen 
expected  to  carry  it,  as  was  customary,  in 
<  procession  through  the  streets  to  the  villa 
of  Mellanides,  and  with  due  ceremonies  place 
it  in  position. 

He  wended  his  way,  puzzled  and  thought- 
ful, to  the  silversmith's,  undecided  what  to 
do  until  he  had  reached  Demetrius'  garden. 

"May  Diana  prosper  thee,  noble  Andros," 
said  Demetrius,  who  was  standing  at  the 


198          WINNING  A  FRIEND 

door  of  his  workshop.  He  was  now  as  ob- 
sequious as  once  he  had  been  aggressive. 

"And  mayest  thou  enjoy  length  of  days," 
said  Andros  in  answer  to  the  salutation. 

"Come  inside,  generous  patron  of  the  arts, 
and  view  the  artistic  triumph  of  thy  shrine. 
It  is  now  all  but  completed.  On  the  third 
day  from  now  I  intend  to  give  my  artists  a 
holiday,  when  the  shrine  shall  be  conveyed 
in  solemn  procession  to  the  house  of  Lydda. 
Knoweth  she  yet  the  great  joy  of  possession 
of  so  beautiful  a  piece  of  workmanship  is  to 
be  hers?" 

"Nay,  good  silversmith,  I  have  not  yet 
informed  her.  I  had  intended  it  as  a  sur- 
prise." 

"Had  intended!  Had  intended!  What 
meanest  thou?  Doth  not  the  workmanship 
please  thee?  Come,  look  at  the  statue!  All 
Greece  cannot  show  a  fairer  specimen  of  the 
silversmith's  handicraft!  Seest  thou  that 
crenallated  towered  crown — that  poise  of 
head?  It  is  perfection.  Seest  thou  the 
gracefulness  of  that  antlered  hind  which  the 
goddess  holds?  You  almost  expect  to  see 
it  move  and  try  to  escape !  Look,  friend,  at* 
the  arrows.  How  delicate  the  carving  of 
each  feather,  and  see  the  quiver  at  her  back! 
The  statues  in  the  temple  are  vulgar  com- 
pared to  this  one,  O  Andros!  Look  at  those 
miniature  Ionic  pillars  of  the  temple,  which 
style  of  architecture,  as  thou  knowest,  was 


WINNING  A  FRIEND  199 

especially  invented  for  our  temple.  Surely 
thou  art  satisfied  with  the  workmanship?" 

"More  than  satisfied,"  answered  Andros, 
"the  artistic  excellence  could  not  be  sur- 
passed by  Scopas  or  Praxiteles." 

"Good!  It  is  a  pleasure  to  work  for  one 
who  can  appreciate  true  excellence  in  art. 
Now  I  know  why  thou  refusedst,  during  the 
Artemision,  to  shout  in  honor  of  the  great 
statue  in  the  temple.  The  ancient  statue  was 
not  artistic  enough  for  thee.  When  wilt 
thou  have  the  shrine  removed?  I  will  have 
it  weighed  before  thee  now,  although  I  know 
that  one  so  wealthy  as  thou  art  will  not  be 
particular  as  to  a  few  ounces.  Thou  knowest 
thou  wert  to  pay  me  one-third  of  the  weight 
in  silver  for  the  cost  of  workmanship.  For 
such  excellence  that  is  cheap,  indeed." 

"I  will  give  thee  twenty  ounces  of  silver 
above  our  bargain  for  the  excellence  of  thy 
labor,  but  I  want  it  not  taken  to  the  house 
of  Mellanides,"  said  Andros. 

"Not  taken  there !  Am  I  to  have  no  glory? 
Art  thou  dissatisfied  with  it?  'Twas  but  a 
moment  ago  thou  didst  praise  it.  Is  there 
aught  about  it  that  displeaseth  thee?  No 
rules  of  mine  art  have  I  violated." 

"No,  no.  It  is  beautiful — beautiful, 
indeed." 

"And  thou  wantest  it  not  for  thy  lady? 
Ah,  Aratus  hath  succeeded  and  thou  hast 
failed?" 

Andros'  face  flushed  angrily  at  the  men- 


200          WINNING  A  FRIEND 

tion,  in  such  a  connection,  of  his  rival's  name. 

"No.  If  thou  wishest  to  retain  my  friend- 
ship, mention  not  that  name  again." 

"But  the  reason,  then,  that  thou — " 

"I  have  changed  my  mind.  That  is  all. 
I  am  willing  and  able  to  pay  thee  well  for 
thy  labor.  From  this  silver  I  desire  some- 
thing of  thee  that  will  please  the  daughter 
of  Mellanides  better." 

"Better  than  a  shrine  of  our  goddess! 
Nothing  can  suit  a  woman  better  than  that, 
provided  the  metal  be  precious  enough." 

"Hath  she  not  a  number  of  shrines  in  her 
house?" 

"But  nothing  approaching  the  beauty  of 
this  one,  of  a  surety." 

"Get  thyself  invited,  and  visit  her  rooms 
sometime,  Demetrius,  and  see  for  thyself." 

"What  wilt  thou  then?"  asked  the  silver- 
smith, in  no  good  humor. 

"That  thou  meltest  this  silver  once  again 
and  from  it  make  two  tall  vases  of  thy 
choicest  skill.  I  will  pay  thee  one-third  of 
the  weight  of  the  shrine  in  silver  for  the  work 
thou  hast  already  done,  and  am  willing  to 
pay  thee  even  more,  if  thou  demandest  it,  if 
thou  wilt  but  make  the  vases  according  to 
my  wish." 

"Do  as  he  desireth,  master,  but  do  it 
quickly,  or  thou  wilt  not  have  opportunity  to 
recompense  thyself." 

This  advice  came  unexpectedly,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,,  from  the  deformed  dwarf  of  the 


WINNING  A  FRIEND         201 

furnace,  who  had  pulled  Demetrius'  tunic 
from  behind.  He  spoke  in  so  low  a  tone  that 
Andros  did  not  hear.  Demetrius  was 
slightly  in  awe  of  this  man  at  the  forge,  be- 
lieving in  some  way  that  he  possessed  some 
occult  powers  over  nature  and  men.  His 
uncanny  appearance  helped  to  foster  this 
belief.  The  whispered  warning  had  its  ef- 
fect. The  silversmith,  without  turning 
around  towards  the  dwarf,  nodded  affirma- 
tively that  he  understood. 

"I  cannot  make  thee  out,  O  Andros,"  said 
Demetrius.  "This  shrine  which  thou  hast 
ordered  hath  taken  months  of  labor.  Thou 
sayest  that  it  is  a  thing  of  beauty,  and  now 
thou  desirest  that  it  be  sent  to  the  melting 
pot  again.  One  would  think  thou  hadst  for- 
saken thy  goddess.  Dost  thou  remember  I 
thought  so  once  before?" 

"Take  it  as  an  unexplained  whim  of  one 
who  is  able  to  pay  for  his  vagaries.  If  thou 
wilt  make  what  I  desire  of  thee,  I  will  even 
pay  thee  half  the  weight  of  them  in  silver." 

The  offer  was  a  good  one.  Demetrius, 
ever  with  an  eye  to  a  bargain,  let  his  renown 
as  an  artist  stand  in  abeyance,  and  lost  no 
time  in  closing  it.  Curses  from  the  furnace 
corner  followed  Andros  as  he,  with  Deme- 
trius, walked  to  the  far  end  of  the  workshop, 
where  a  little  weazened  old  man  sat  behind 
a  table  and  received  minute  instructions  as 
to  the  shape  and  ornaments  of  the  vases. 

When  the  detailed  instructions  had  all 


202          WINNING  A  FRIEND 

been  carefully  written  down,  Andros  strolled 
among  the  artists,  here  and  there  leaving  his 
customary  dole  for  wine. 

Arriving  at  the  door  by  which  he  had  en- 
tered the  workshop  from  the  garden,  Andros 
for  the  first  time  realized  that  he  had  habit- 
ually neglected  and  apparently  ignored  the 
bellows-blower. 

Conscious  that  he  had  not  done  this  de- 
liberately, and  regretting  that  hitherto  he 
had  overlooked  the  man,  he  was  curious  to 
learn  how  his  oversight  had  affected  him. 
Andros  did  not  blame  himself,  for  the  man 
at  the  furnace  while  at  work  was  generally 
hidden  behind  a  door,  the  furnace  being 
placed  in  a  corner  of  the  shop.  One  leaf  of 
the  door  generally  hid  him  from  the  view  of 
those  passing  in  and  out. 

"Health  to  thee,  Nitros.  Wilt  thou  par- 
don me  that  I  have  never  asked  thee  to  drink 
my  health  in  wine?" 

A  savage  growl,  scarcely  human,  came 
from  the  deep  chest  of  the  dwarf.  Had 
looks  the  power  to  kill,  Andros  would  have 
dropped  dead,  so  intense  was  the  malice  that 
shone  from  his  sunken  eyes  beneath  the 
beetling  brows. 

"Thou  art  partly  to  blame,"  continued 
Andros,  good-naturedly,  "because  thou  so 
persistently  hidest  thyself  behind  the  great 
door." 

"Small  care  or  concern  hath  such  as  thou, 
with  health,  wealth  and  friends,  for  a  mis- 


WINNING  A  FRIEND          203 

shapen  thing  such  as  I.  Is  not  the  sight  of 
me  a  shadow  on  thy  path  of  joy?  or  do  not 
my  squalor  and  deformity  add  brightness  to 
thy  life  by  the  very  contrasts  of  our  con- 
ditions?" said  the  dwarf,  with  savage  bit- 
terness. 

"Indeed,  not  so,"  said  Andros  earnestly. 
"I  pity  thee  thy  sad  deformity!  May  the 
gods — hm! — May  not  the  Roman  physician 
of  the  pro-consul  help  to  cure  thee  of  thy 
ills?  'Tis  said  that  he  hath  performed 
wonders." 

"That  is  right!  Mock!  mock!  I  am  help- 
less, as  thou  knowest,  to  avenge  myself!  Do 
thou  wait!  Thy  tauntings  shall  not  go  un- 
avenged !  Beware  for  thyself." 

"Be  not  so  angry,"  said  the  shipowner, 
quite  at  a  loss  to  imagine  why  the  man  was 
so  vindictive.  "I  will  do  thee  good,  if  thou 
wilt  permit  it.  I  know  not  why  thou  art  so 
angry  with  me,  except  that  I  have  neglected 
thee  on  my  visits  here.  This,  as  I  have  ex- 
plained, was  inadvertence.  Now  listen  to 
me,  friend  Nitros." 

"I  am  listening.  What  hast  thou  to  say? 
Like  the  rest  of  men,  I  suppose,  scoffings  at 
my  deformed  figure.  If  the  immortal  gods 
made  me  thus,  is  it  just  that  mortals  always 
thrust  the  third  finger  out  at  me,  and  make 
my  life  a  torture?  Do  men  think  that  I  have 
no  human  feelings  left?" 

Andros  gazed  at  the  misshapen  man,  and 
felt  in  some  way  that  he  was  rightly  re- 


204          WINNING  A  FRIEND 

proved.  With  an  impulse  of  regret  for  his 
former  neglect,  he  said: 

"I  know  thou  hast.  I  pity  thee  thy  mis- 
fortune. Bare  pity  is  a  slow  solace.  This  is 
what  I  propose.  Thou  art  above  the  mere 
labor  of  bellows-blowing.  Thou  knowest 
that  I  employ  many  men.  Wilt  thou  not 
come  to  me?  I  want  a  strong,  faithful  man 
in  my  house  to  guard  my  treasure-chest, 
which  is  none  too  safe  from  some  of  my 
slaves  when  I  am  absent.  Wilt  thou  come? 
Thy  labor  shall  be  light  and  honorable,  and 
— I  trust  thee." 

Andros,  as  he  spoke,  watched  the  play  of 
emotions  on  the  swarthy  and  begrimed  face 
of  the  dwarf.  At  first  there  appeared  to  be 
no  intelligent  light  in  his  eyes.  Then  came 
a  gleam  as  he  realized  the  proposition,  fol- 
lowed by  a  look  of  distrustful  doubt.  Then 
hesitancy,  as  if  the  offer  were  too  good  to  be 
true.  This  was  followed  by  a  burst  of  anger 
which  momentarily  blazed  out  of  those  pierc- 
ing eyes.  It  was  calmed,  evidently,  by  the 
recollection  of  the  last  three  words  which 
Andros  had  spoken. 

"Thou  trusteth  me !  me !  It  is  impossible !" 
he  said  as  one  bewildered. 

"Why  so,  my  friend?  Have  I  not  known 
that  thou  hast  been  faithful  to  Demetrius, 
thy  master,  these  many  years?  If  thou  art 
true  to  one  master,  wilt  thou  not  be  true  to 
another?" 


WINNING  A  FRIEND          205 

"Oh,  but  I  have  wronged  thee.  I  hated 
thee.  I  sought  to  do  thee  harm !" 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,  because  I  never 
harmed  thee.  Thou  canst  undo  that  by  being 
faithful  to  me  in  the  new  office  I  offer  thee. 
Wilt  thou  come?" 

Nitros  paused  for  some  seconds,  and  then 
answered : 

"Yes,  I  will  come  with  thee." 

The  young  Ephesian  felt  for  his  purse 
with  the  intention  of  giving  him  some  coins, 
but  thought  better  of  it.  He  was  good 
enough  character  reader  to  know  that  in  the 
circumstances  it  would  be  a  more  delicate 
compliment  not  to  offer  money. 

"I  am  glad  that  thou  wilt  come,"  he  said 
simply.  "Thou  knowest  my  house.  I  shall 
expect  thee  to-morrow." 

As  the  speaker  walked  away,  the  dwarf 
followed  him  with  his  eyes.  He  was  a  com- 
pletely changed  man.  Even  Demetrius,  who 
treated  his  men  with  consideration,  always 
regarded  Nitros  as  little  more  than  a  mere 
machine.  Those  who  were  familiar  with  the 
keeper  of  the  forge  would  have  been  sur- 
prised had  they  watched  him  at  this  mo- 
ment. For  the  first  time  he  had  been  re- 
garded as  a  human  being  with  a  will  and 
powers  of  his  own.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life  was  he  spoken  to  by  a  man  as  to  a  man. 
And,  then,  the  joy  at  the  thought  of  freedom 
fro«n  drudgery  and  hard  and  repulsive  physi- 
cal labor!  To  be  a  trusted  agent  with  re- 


206          WINNING  A  FRIEND 

sponsibility!  The  transformation  in  him 
was  wonderful.  Already  he  appeared  taller 
and  less  deformed.  He  was  now  a  man, 
trusted,  honored !  He  watched  Andros  until 
he  was  out  of  sight.  He  turned  to  his  idle 
bellows  and  began  blowing  the  fire  vigor- 
ously. The  creakings  of  the  leather  folds 
of  the  great  bellows  drowned  out  his  words. 

"Oh,  if  Aratus  has  not  begun  his  work  of 
vengeance  against  this  man!  I  must  stop 
him  at  all  costs,  even  if — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  threw 
on  his  brown  cloak  and  hastened  to  the  wine- 
shop where  he  believed  Aratus  could  be 
found  at  that  hour.  f 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

The  next  time  that  Andros  went  out  to 
the  family  of  Elymas  he  was  greatly  sur- 
prised at  what  he  saw.  In  all  his  previous 
visits  he  had  experienced  the  delights  of 
rural  calm.  The  attractive  charm  to  An- 
dros had  always  been  the  peace  that  reigned 
in  the  household  and  the  surrounding  quiet 
of  a  rural  home.  On  this  occasion  more 
people  were  gathered  here  than  he  had 
ever  seen  before.  There  was  an  unwonted 
stir. 

All  appeared  to  be  laboring  under  some 
suppressed  excitement,  which  was  shown  in 
sparkling  eyes  and  flushed  faces.  Men  and 
women  passed  hastily  from  room  to  room 
and  in  and  out  of  the  house  in  a  preoccupied 
manner.  Here  and  there  in  the  garden  were 
little  knots  of  men  or  women,  or  sometimes 
of  both,  busily  discussing  something  of  im- 
portance. Others  came  to  the  farmhouse, 
stayed  a  few  minutes  and  then  hurried  away. 

Andros,  being  unknown  to  all  save  the 
family  of  Elymas,  considered  himself  on  this 
occasion  to  be  in  the  way.  He  decided  to 
leave  quietly  and  return  some  other  day 
when  the  excitement  should  have  passed. 

207 


208       FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

He  was  about  to  depart,  having  gone  down 
the  garden  some  paces,  when  Elymas  hastily 
approached  him. 

"Thou  art  not  deserting  us,  Andros?  We 
will  not  let  thee  go.  Thou  dost  not  under- 
stand why  so  many  friends  are  gathered  here 
to-day.  I  will  explain  all  to  thee  later.  They 
will  not  remain  long.  Many  have  already 
gone.  Thou  art  welcome  as  ever,  but  thou 
seest  I  have  the  duties  of  hospitality  to  at- 
tend to.  I  know  thou  wilt  excuse  me  for  a 
short  time.  Abdiel  hath  returned,  and 
greatly  desires  to  see  thee.  He  is  engaged 
at  present,  but  I  will  send  my  son  David  to 
thee.  Many  of  these  people  know  who  thou 
art  and  feel  kindly  towards  thee." 

Andros  could  but  accept  the  graceful  ex- 
planation. In  a  few  minutes  David  came 
to  entertain  him.  The  young  man,  believing 
that  Andros  was  a  neophyte,  or  was  about 
to  become  one,  and  not  knowing  to  what  ex-, 
tent  he  had  as  yet  been  instructed,  refrained 
as  much  as  possible  from  discussing  religious 
topics,  deeming  it  more  prudent  to  leave 
such  important  matters  to  those  more 
experienced.  Previously  kindly  disposed 
towards  each  other,  the  two  soon  became 
fast  and  confidential  friends. 

Andros  was  quick  to  see  that  this  young 
man  was  reluctant  to  talk  on  religious  sub- 
jects, and  he  therefore  refrained  from  intro- 
ducing them,  although  he  had  many  ques- 
tions to  be  answered. 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER       209 

"It  ill  becomes  a  youth,"  said  David,  "to 
discuss  these  high  subjects  when  one's  elders 
— men  of  experience — are  within  call." 

"Thy  father  is  busy  to-day  with  his 
guests?" 

"Abdiel  will  soon  come  to  thee." 

"Who  is  Abdiel?  What  is  he?"  asked 
Andros,  who  for  some  time  had  been  curious 
to  know  why  every  one  of  the  family  spoke 
of  and  treated  him  with  the  greatest  respect 
and  reverence. 

"Dost  thou  not  know?  He  is  the  priest  of 
our  religion." 

"Is  that  the  reason  why  all  of  you  hold  him 
in  so  much  veneration?" 

"Most  assuredly,  for  at  present  none  but 
he  in  all  Ephesus  can  dispense  to  us  our 
mysteries." 

"W7hat  are  thy  mysteries?" 

"Wait  until  he  cometh  to  thee.  He  will 
explain  all  to  thee,  if  he  find  thee  worthy." 

The  master-fisherman  did  not  urge  an  ex- 
planation. He  rather  respected  the  young 
man's  retiring  disposition  and  modesty  of 
demeanor.  They  soon  found  common 
ground  upon  which  they  could  converse  and 
exchange  confidences  to  their  hearts'  con- 
tent. It  was  the  universal  subject.  During 
their  talk  Andros  told  his  friend  of  his  love 
for  Lydda  and  all  his  hopes.  As  confidence 
begets  confidence,  he  learned  that  David's 
affections  were  centered  upon  a  young 
woman  living  in  a  little  community  in  the 


210      FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

woods  on  the  north  side  of  the  river 
Caystrus. 

"I  know  of  those  people!"  exclaimed  An- 
dros.  "My  Lydda  told  me  that  once  she  met 
with  an  accident  near  their  house.  They 
treated  her  as  a  sister.  She  often  speaks  of 
them.  They  live  not  far  from  her  father's 
house." 

"I  almost  envy  thee,"  said  David,  laughing 
in  such  a  way  as  to  show  that  that  vice  had 
not  any  hold  on  him. 

"Why?    How  so?" 

"When  thou  shalt  marry  thy  Lydda,  thine 
own  and  her  wealth  will  make  thee  one  of 
the  very  richest  men  in  Ephesus,  while  I,  if 
I  am  fortunate  enough  to  secure  the  hand  of 
her  whom  I  love,  shall  have  to  work  hard  all 
the  days  of  my  life.  I  say  I  almost  envy  thee, 
and  probably  should  do  so  did  not  my  reli- 
gion forbid  envy." 

"Forbid  envy !  Doth  thy  religion  influence 
thy  private  life?  Thy  very  thoughts?" 

"Unquestionably,"  replied  David.  "It  en- 
ters and  influences  our  inmost  being.  It 
dominates  the  whole  man." 

Andros  remained  silently  thinking  for 
some  time.  This  new  idea  engrossed  him. 
His  mind,  however,  soon  reverted  to  the 
thought  which  was  at  present  uppermost. 
"If  I  marry  Lydda!  Ah,  it  is  by  no  means 
certain  as  yet  that  I  shall  secure  that  happi- 
ness! David,  I  like  thee  much.  I  will  look 
after  thy  interests  if  thou  wilt  trust  me. 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER      211 

Come  what  may,  I  am  influential  enough  to 
secure  thee  some  lucrative  position." 

David  thanked  him  and  said  he  would  re- 
mind him  of  his  promise  some  time  in  the 
future. 

By  this  time  most  of  the  gathering  had 
dispersed.  Abdiel  came  in  search  of  Andros 
and  David  modestly  withdrew. 

"Elymas  tells  me  that  thou  now  believest 
in  the  one  true  God?"  said  Abdiel  interrog- 
atively. 

"This  I  believe  most  firmly,"  replied  An- 
dros; "tell  me  what  more  I  must  do." 

Seating  themselves  in  the  shade  of  a  grape 
arbor,  with  the  aroma  of  grape  blossoms  all 
around  them,  Abdiel  began  to  unfold  to  him 
the  sublime  doctrines  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
and  the  Incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Long  Andros  listened  with  absorbed  at- 
tention to  the  marvelous  story  of  the  funda- 
mental truths  of  Christianity,  fearing  to  in- 
terrupt by  questioning  lest  he  might  miss 
any  of  the  teachings  of  Abdiel.  It  was  an 
epoch-making  period  for  Andros,  for  his 
mental  horizon  was  enlarged.  He  saw  more 
of  the  meaning  of  life.  His  ideas  expanded, 
and  he  was  conscious  that  these  doctrines 
supplied  a  realization  of  his  long-cherished 
ideals,  although  the  whole  revelation  was  so 
different  to  what  he  could  possibly  have 
imagined.  Henceforth  he  lived  in  a  new 
world  of  thought  and  motive.  One  effect 


212       FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

was  the  birth  of  an  incipient  zeal.  He 
wanted  all  Ephesus  to  know  the  great  truths. 

Stars  studded  the  sky  before  Abdiel  ceased 
speaking  of  the  wonderful  story  of  man's 
fall  and  his  divine  redemption. 

"Explain  to  me,  good  sir,  one  thing,"  said 
Andros.  "Why  was  it  necessary  that  the 
divine  Logos,  after  he  had  taken  up,  as  thou 
sayest,  our  human  nature  into  the  divine, 
should  needs  have  suffered?" 

"Have  I  riot  already  told  thee,  Andros, 
that  he  assumed  our  human  nature  in  order 
that  he  might  suffer  for  us?  God,  a  pure 
spirit,  could  not  suffer,  but  the  offense  of  sin 
against  God  was  infinite,  and  required  a 
reparation  of  infinite  merit,  such  only  as  God 
could  offer.  This  reparation  of  the  God- 
man — the  only  possible  one  that  could  prove 
adequate — was  accepted  by  the  Father,  and 
the  whole  human  race  was  redeemed  there- 
by. Seest  thou  now  the  necessity  of  suffer- 
ing on  the  part  of  the  God-man — the  only 
one  capable  of  making  reparation  and  of 
accomplishing  the  redemption?" 

Andros  assented,  but  put  another  ques- 
tion: 

"Admitting  the  fact  of  an  Incarnation, 
how  can  it  be  shown  that  this  Christ  is  the 
divine  one  he  claims  to  be?" 

"This  is  shown  by  the  prophecies  concern- 
ing the  Christ  all  having  their  fulfilment  in 
him;  by  his  own  teaching  and  wonderfully 
holy  life,  and  by  the  miracles  which  he  per- 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER       213 

formed  in  proof  of  the  truth  of  his  doctrines 
and  of  his  divinity." 

"Thou  sayest  that  this  holy  one  hath  come 
on  earth  in  these  our  times.  Didst  thou  ever 
see  this  divine  one,  Abdiel?  Didst  thou  ever 
witness  a  miracle?" 

The  priest  remained  a  long  time  without 
speaking.  The  question  appeared  to  cause 
him  great  emotion.  His  lips  trembled  and 
his  eyelids  twitched  as  at  some  exciting  re- 
membrance. Andros  was  surprised,  for  their 
conversation  had  been  quiet  and  grave  and 
even-toned.  He  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
why  so  apparently  simple  a  question  should 
so  affect  his  companion.  It  was  some  time 
before  Abdiel  regained  his  composure. 

"Thou  must  pardon  me  my  emotion,  An- 
dros. The  mention  and  the  remembrance 
of  this  great  event  of  my  life,  when  I  first 
saw  the  Master,  always  affect  me  deeply. 
Wouldst  thou  hear  the  story?" 

Andros  signified  his  eagerness  to  hear. 

"The  dew  begins  to  fall  heavily.  We  will 
go  into  the  house,  and  there  I  will  tell  thee." 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  large  living 
room,  in  the  midst  of  the  family  of  Elymas, 
Abdiel  began  his  story: 

"Thou  must  know  that  I  am  a  native  of 
Galilee,  in  the  province  of  Syria.  My  father 
was  a  tiller  of  the  soil.  He  brought  up  his 
family  on  a  farm  on  the  fruitful  southern 
slope  of  Mount  Carmel.  I  and  my  two 
brothers  remained  at  home  long  after  th? 


214       FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

period  which  the  rabbis  declare  that  Jewish 
youths  should  marry.  So  long  did  I  wait 
that  I  determined  to  stay  with  my  parents  as 
long  as  they  lived,  to  look  after  them  in  their 
old  age.  In  this  providence  disposed  other- 
wise, and  I  am  here.  My  two  brothers  are 
taking  care  of  our  parents. 

"On  one  occasion  several  of  my  father's 
horses  broke  loose  from  their  pasture 
grounds,  and  I  was  sent  in  search  of  them. 
I  traveled  south  and  east  for  two  days. 
When  the  sun  was  within  an  hour  of  setting 
on  the  second  day,  I  came  to  a  small  town 
not  far  from  the  southern  confines  of  Galilee. 

"There  was  much  commotion  in  the  one 
main  street.  I  could  hear  the  ululation  and 
the  shrill  wailing  of  women.  This  told  me 
that  some  one  was  recently  dead,  or  that  the 
body  was  being  conveyed  to  the  burial  place. 
As  I  came  nearer,  I  dismounted  and  tied  my 
horse  to  a  tree  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town 
and  proceeded  in  the  direction  whence  came 
the  sounds  of  mourning. 

"Soon  I  met  the  funeral  procession.  Never 
shall  I  forget  the  look  of  ineffable  sorrow 
stamped  upon  the  face  of  the  woman.  She 
was  advanced  in  years.  When  her  affliction 
came  to  her  she  was  probably  fifty  years  old. 
She  did  not  appear  to  be  well  endowed  with 
the  riches  of  this  world,  for  her  garments 
were  old  and  coarse,  and  she  wore  the  long 
cloth  over  her  head  which  is  indicative  of 
widowhood  in  our  country.  I  enquired  of 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER       215 

some  sympathetic  bystander  whether  she 
was  engaged  in  the  mournful  task  of  con- 
signing her  husband  to  the  grave. 

'  'No/  he  answered,  'she  performed  that 
sad  duty  more  than  seven  years  ago.  To-day 
she  buries  her  only  son.  He  was  a  good 
young  man;  now  her  only  support  is  taken 
from  her/ 

"I  noticed  as  the  procession  advanced 
nearly  all  the  townspeople  left  their  houses 
and  either  joined  it  or  said  a  few  kindly 
words  of  consolation  to  the  weeping  widow. 
I  have  seen  much  grief  and  suffering  in  my 
time,  but  never  have  I  seen,  O  Andros,  such 
unutterable  woe  as  was  depicted  on  that 
mother's  face.  Strong  men  wept  at  sight  of 
her  grief,  which,  as  the  procession  neared  the 
place  of  burial,  appeared  to  grow  more  incon- 
solable. Moved  to  deep  sympathy  for  the 
grief-stricken  mother  on  account  of  the  na- 
ture of  her  irreparable  loss,  I  joined  the 
cortege,  determined,  although  I  was  a  stran- 
ger to  the  townspeople,  by  my  presence  to 
show  my  sympathy  for  her  in  her  bereave- 
ment. 

"While  we  were  wending  our  way  slowly 
toward  the  place  of  sepulture  the  wailing  of 
the  townspeople  and  the  shrill  shrieks  of  the 
professional  mourners  grew  louder.  When 
these  were  at  their  height,  I  saw  in  the  dis- 
tance a  large  gathering  of  men  and  women 
approaching.  They  were  accompanying 
one  of  a  most  majestic  appearance.  Had  it 


216      FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

not  been  for  his  extreme  dignity  and  noble 
carriage  I  should  have  paid  no  more  than 
ordinary  attention  to  him,  regarding  him  as 
one  of  those  itinerant  teachers  who  of  late 
years  had  been  going  up  and  down  the  coun- 
try, especially  in  Galilee  and  Judea.  Some 
of  these  had  been  excommunicated  by  the 
high  priest  and  the  Sanhedrim  in  Jerusalem. 
Others  were  allowed  to  go  about  unmo- 
lested, being  considered  harmless. 

"This  teacher  possessed  a  dignity  and  a 
kingly  bearing  such  as  I  had  never  before 
seen  among  men.  When  he  spoke,  all  within 
sound  of  his  voice  hung  with  rapt  attention 
on  his  words,  compelled  as  it  were  by  a  force 
divine  to  acknowledge  the  power  and  elo- 
quence that  accompanied  them.  There  were 
three  of  his  companions  to  whom  the  crowd 
that  pressed  around  them  gave  signal  defer- 
ence. These  three  were  his  special  familiars 
and  seemed  to  be  possessed  of  some  of  his 
own  power  to  draw  men  around  them. 

"  'See,  Master,'  I  heard  one  of  them  say, 
'here  cometh  a  funeral  train.  Shall  we  step 
aside  and  let  it  pass?  Shall  I  bid  the  throng 
that  is  following  in  our  wake  make  room  for 
the  bier?' 

"I  heard  not  the  reply  from  the  Master, 
but  saw  him  raise  his  hand  in  a  commanding 
attitude.  The  musicians  and  those  bearing 
the  bier  stood  in  wonder.  There  were  some 
audible  murmurs  of  disapproval  among  the 
townsmen  at  the  stopping  of  the  funeral 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER       217 

cortege.  I  looked  toward  the  widowed 
mother,  pitying  her  in  her  grief,  and  regret- 
ting that  this  interruption  had  occurred. 
Any  untoward  circumstance  would  be  to  her, 
in  the  future,  when  her  memory  would  lov- 
ingly dwell  on  every  detail  of  the  burying  of 
her  beloved  one,  a  further  source  of  exquisite 
grief.  She  now  seemed  exhausted,  as  if  her 
sorrow  had  reduced  her  to  a  state  of  numb 
despair.  The  kindly  women  who  were  with 
her  watched  her  closely,  fearing  that  she 
might  faint  from  the  excess  of  her  anguish 
before  the  time  of  the  final  ordeal  of  leaving 
her  only  son  a  prey  to  the  corruption  of  the 
sepulchre.  The  fountain  of  her  tears  was 
dried.  She  could  weep  no  more.  She  ap- 
peared oblivious  of  her  surroundings,  en- 
shrouded only  in  her  sorrow. 

"When  the  two  gatherings — that  of  the 
townsmen,  and  those  following  the  Master 
— came  face  to  face,  she  stood  passively,  her 
hands  clasped  before  her,  her  features  par- 
tially hidden  by  the  mourning  veil,  gazing 
at  the  form  of  her  dead.  The  Master  saw 
her  tear-stained  cheeks.  He  saw  her  form 
bent  in  anguish.  He  looked  with  pitying 
eyes  on  the  magnitude  of  her  sorrow,  as 
boundless  as  the  sea. 

"When,  without  a  word,  by  a  single  ges- 
ture, he  halted  the  bier,  his  figure  was  regal. 
Never  did  a  lordly  general,  leading  his  sol- 
diers home  from  victory,  look  more  com- 
manding. A  Csesar  himself  could  not  be 


218       FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

more  imperial  than  he  was,  standing  before 
the  bier  of  the  dead  young  man.  His  fame 
as  a  great  prophet  and  a  doer  of  wonders 
had  gone  before  him  and  reached  the  little 
town  of  Nairn,  but  few  of  the  townspeople 
had  ever  seen  him,  nor  were  they  now  pre- 
pared to  see  one  of  such  commanding  dig- 
nity combined  "  with  the  most  unaffected 
humility. 

•"He  was  a  Nazarene.  His  hair  fell  in 
golden-brown  ripples  to  his  shoulders.  The 
beard  was  full  but  rather  short  and  of  a  shade 
or  two  lighter  than  the  hair.  The  mouth  of 
medium  size,  with  lips  thin  and  sensitive. 
The  nose  was  long  and  straight,  with  dis- 
tended nostrils.  The  color  of  his  face,  and 
especially  of  his  brow,  was  the  whiteness  of 
marble,  enhanced  in  beauty  by  a  faint  touch 
of  color  on  the  cheek-bones,  and  by  the  rich 
redness  of  the  lips.  The  eyes,  which  were 
shaded  by  strong  brown  eyebrows,  were  the 
most  remarkable  feature  of  his  countenance. 
They  were  large  and  beautiful,  full  and  lus- 
trous and  of  a  dark  blue.  They  seemed  to 
speak  of  love  and  meekness,  of  strength  and 
sympathy  and  kindness,  and  yet  of  domi- 
nating power.  One  glance  of  those  eyes  cap- 
tivated my  soul  and  I  felt  as  if  it  were  flut- 
tering at  his  feet  like  a  wounded  dove. 

"The  influence  of  this  wonderful  man  was 
felt  by  all  present.  The  gathering  waited 
for  something,  it  knew  not  what.  While  we 
were  gazing  upon  him,  the  Master  began  to 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER       219 

change  in  some  intangible  way.  No  one 
seemed  to  know  how  the  difference  came 
about,  but  all  were  conscious  of  it.  He  had 
come  among  them  as  one  of  them,  although 
superior  to  them.  Now,  standing  in  front 
of  the  bier,  he  did  not  appear  to  grow  larger, 
but  there  was  manifested  in  him  an  attribute 
which  was  awing  and  overmastering.  The 
everlasting  holiness  of  Aaron,  our  great  high 
priest,  shone  in  him.  He  seemed  to  exem- 
plify the  kingly  dignity  of  David,  and  you 
felt  that  he  was  wiser  and  greater  than  Solo- 
mon. Above  and  beyond  all  this,  the  con- 
sciousness was  borne  in  on  you  that  he  was 
master  of  heaven  and  earth,  of  life  and  death, 
and  of  all  the  powers  of  the  universe. 

"Many  of  the  awed  assembly  were  already 
kneeling,  expecting  something,  they  knew 
not  what,  would  take  place.  The  widowed 
mother  looked  longingly  at  him  through  a 
mist  of  tears,  for  she  had  begun  to  weep 
again.  Was  there  a  glimmering  of  hope 
being  lighted  in  her  breast  that  the  great 
prophet  would  do  something  for  her  in  her 
inconsolable  grief?  Did  her  wildest  flight 
of  delirium  of  sorrow  for  one  instant  imagine 
— no,  it  was  impossible  that  she  should  have 
thought  of  the  wonder  which  was  so  soon  to 
follow.  The  Master  said  to  her: 

"  'Weep  not/ 

"Wondrously  the  fountain  of  her  tears 
was  dried,  and  there  stole  over  her  heart  a 
feeling  of  resignation  soft  and  sweet  as  the 


220       FAME  OF  THE  MASTER 

first  breath  of  spring.  The  Master  then 
touched  the  bier,  which  had  been  lowered 
and  placed  on  two  trestles  by  the  bearers. 
With  an  assumption  of  dignity  and  with  a 
power  which  the  spirits  of  the  other  world 
obey,  he  said,  in  a  tone  not  loud  but  pene- 
trating, which  thrilled  every  hearer,  and 
made  the  bereaved  mother  clasp  her  hands 
in  an  agony  of  suspense: 

"  'Young  man,  I  say  to  thee  arise.' 

"What  if  he  should  prove  to  be  merely  one 
of  those  false  teachers  pretending  to  work 
miracles!  Oh,  her  despair  would  be  the 
blacker  for  the  flickering  of  hope! 

"But  see!  the  cere-clothes  and  swathing 
bands  begin  to  give  signs  of  life  in  the  one 
enshrouded  in  them.  There  is  a  change  in 
the  corpse.  That  son,  that  precious  lost  one, 
her  only  support,  begins  to  show  signs  of 
life!  His  eyelids  twitch,  his  eyes  open!  He 
is  alive!  With  an  effort — the  cere-clothes 
hinder — he  takes  a  sitting  posture.  His 
struggles  for  freedom  of  movement  burst  the 
bands.  He  is  free! 

"The  Master  takes  him  by  the  hand  and 
leads  him  a  few  paces.  And  he  gives  him  to 
his  mother.  The  woman,  dazed  as  much  by 
the  miracle  as  by  her  own  grief,  at  first  does 
not  comprehend,  but  with  the  warm  clasp  of 
her  own  precious  boy's  hand,  full  conscious- 
ness rushes  back  to  the  poor,  tired,  numbed 
brain.  With  a  wild  cry  she  throws  herself 
into  the  arms  of  her  son.  They  mingle  their 


FAME  OF  THE  MASTER      221 

tears  of  joy.  He  is  safely  back  from  beyond 
the  grave.  None  but  a  mother  can  realize 
her  ecstatic  happiness.  Amid  laughter  and 
tears  of  joy  the  two  at  length  join  in  the 
Hallel,  or  song  of  praise,  which  the  whole 
company  is  now  singing;  they  turn  to  pour 
out  their  gratitude  to  their  benefactor. 

"While  this  shouting  was  at  its  height,  and 
the  excited  people  were  praising  the  wonder- 
worker and  congratulating  the  son  and  the 
mother,  the  Master  and  his  company  had 
quietly  withdrawn.  They  were  seen  in  the 
distance  journeying  towards  the  shore  of  the 
Lake  of  Genesareth.  Dost  thou  now  doubt 
of  Christ's  divinity,  O  Andros?" 

"I  doubt  no  more,  if  I  ever  doubted.  None 
but  a  God  could  raise  the  dead  to  life  by  his 
own  power." 

Abdiel  was  well  pleased. 

"Thou  art  on  the  way  to  salvation,"  he 
said. 

"Tell  me,  I  beseech  thee,"  said  Andros,  as 
he  arose  to  depart,  "the  meaning  of  so  large 
a  gathering  here  to-day,  and  why  they  were 
so  excited." 

"A  great  event  will  soon  take  place  in 
Ephesus.  Before  this  happens,  I  hope  thou 
wilt  have  the  waters  of  baptism  poured  upon 
thy  head.  Then  thou  wilt  know  and  fully 
realize  all." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
NEMESIS 

Nitros,  the  dwarf,  proved  of  invaluable 
service  to  Andros,  who  daily  congratulated 
himself  on  the  acquisition  of  so  faithful  a 
servitor.  Notwithstanding  his  unshapely 
form,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  unaccustomed 
to  the  luxurious  and  refined  ways  of  the 
household  of  one  of  the  better  class  of  Ephe- 
sians,  he  soon  accommodated  himself  to  his 
new  conditions. 

The  master  of  the  house  permitted  him  to 
choose  his  own  costume,  and  was  surprised 
at  the  cleverness  with  which  he  selected 
those  clothes  which  indicated  his  position  in 
the  house.  Nitros  chose  a  light  crimson,  or 
geranium-colored  tunic  of  soft  wool,  over 
which  he  wore  a  purple  cloak  which  helped 
to  conceal  the  deformity  between  his  shoul- 
ders. He  wore  the  tight-fitting  Ephesian 
trousers,  which  were  of  dark  material  and 
without  the  usual  zigzag  pattern.  A  bright 
yellow  Phrygian  cap  above  his  raven  hair, 
and  a  yellow  belt,  from  which  depended  a 
short  dagger  and  a  jingling  bunch  of  keys, 
gave  him  a  rather  picturesque  appearance. 
Visitors  regarded  him  as  a  unique  kind  of 

222 


NEMESIS  223 

major-domo  in  the  house  of  their  wealthy 
friend. 

Soon  after  he  had  taken  him  into  his 
household  Andros  tested  him  in  several 
ways.  He  found  that  he  was  utterly  honest. 
He  paid  him  well,  but  to  his  surprise  he  dis- 
covered that  the  dwarf  did  not  seem  to  care 
in  the  least  for  money,  often  refusing  to  take 
his  wages  altogether,  or  telling  his  master  to 
take  care  of  them  for  him. 

His  chief  characteristic,  as  Andros  soon 
discovered,  was  a  dog-like  attachment  to 
himself.  Before  coming  to  Ephesus  he  had 
lived  near  the  soil  in  his  native  forests  where 
life  was  not  complicated.  He  never  seemed 
so  pleased  as  when  in  the  company  of  his 
master.  His  great  pride  was  that  he  had  been 
entrusted  to  watch  the  coffers  of  Andros 
when  the  latter  was  absent.  The  freedmen 
of  the  household,  as  well  as  the  slaves,  were 
at  first  inclined  to  imagine  that  he  had  been 
brought  to  them  for  their  special  amusement. 
It  was  not  long  before  they  discovered  their 
mistake.  Two  scullions — full  grown  men, 
too — received  their  lesson.  After  some  at- 
tempted practical  joke  on  him,  Nitros  threw 
off  his  purple  cloak  and  displayed  his  knot- 
ted, muscular  arms.  He  took  hold  of  the 
two  men,  and  by  sheer  muscular  force 
knocked  their  heads  together  several  times 
and  sent  them  spinning,  one  in  one  direction 
and  the  other  in  another.  After  that  there 
was  no  more  molestation,  but  rather  a  pro- 


224  NEMESIS 

found,  although  somewhat  servile,  respect 
for  his  physical  prowess. 

There  was  one  peculiarity  in  Nitros  which 
puzzled  Andros.  Many  times  he  enquired 
of  his  master  whether  he  had  ever  suffered 
annoyance,  or  had  been  molested  in  any  way 
by  the  priests  of  the  Temple  of  Diana. 
"Hath  -aught  been  said  or  done  to  annoy 
thee,  master?"  was  his  frequent  interroga- 
tion. Upon  the  answer  in  the  negative  being 
invariably  given,  Nitros  would  look  relieved 
and  then  mutter  something  which  sounded 
like  a  threat  or  a  curse  on  some  one. 

"It  will  come,  some  day,  and  then  thou 
must  let  me  know  of  it,  master.  Promise  me 
this." 

Andros  promised  in  an  off-hand,  amused 
way  several  times,  until  the  enquiry  and  the 
request  being  repeated  so  often,  at  last  made 
an  impression  on  him.  It  was  now  in  the 
beginning  of  the  month  of  July.  The  Arte- 
mision  festival  for  the  year  was  long  a  thing 
of  the  past.  The  religious  frenzy  so  com- 
mon among  some  of  the  people  during  the 
festival  had  died  down.  The  new  thoughts 
concerning  the  Christ  which  he  had  learned 
from  Abdiel  filled  the  mind  of  Andros.  He 
had  never  been  farther  away  from  the  in- 
fluence of  Diana's  priests  than  now.  Why 
should  Nitros  ask  the  same  question  again 
and  again?  He  determined  to  question  him. 

"Why  dost  thou  imagine,  Nitros,  that  I 
shall  suffer  molestation  from  the  priests?" 


NEMESIS  225 

The  ex-furnace-tender's  blushes  could  be 
seen  through  the  swarthiness  of  his  skin.  He 
mumbled  something  not  quite  intelligible  to 
Andros. 

"Dost  thou  anticipate  that  an  attack  of 
some  sort  will  be  made  upon  me?" 

"It  shall  not  if  I  can  prevent  it,  master. 
It  might  come.  I  know  not.  I  am  anxious 
for  thy  safety." 

"Who  would  instigate  them?  I  know  of 
no  one  who  is  mine  enemy." 

"Every  man,  if  he  be  a  man,  hath  his  ene- 
mies," said  the  dwarf  sententiously. 

"Whom  dost  thou  think  is  mine?" 

"I  cannot  tell.  I  cannot  tell  thee,"  was 
the  somewhat  enigmatic  reply — the  first  sen- 
tence seeming  to  indicate  that  he  was  ig- 
norant, and  the  second,  that  he  was  not  at 
liberty  to  give  the  information. 

"Doth  this  mean  that  thou  dost  not  know, 
or  that  thou  wilt  not  tell  me?" 

"O  master,  ask  me  no  more.  I  will  pro- 
tect thee.  What  I  desire  to  do,  thou  mayest 
forbid  if  thou  knowest.  Ask  me  no  more." 

Andros  did  not  attach  much  importance  to 
the  words.  He  imagined  that  it  was  all  a 
piece  of  overwrought  gratitude  on  the  part 
of  the  hunchback,  who,  perhaps,  was  seeing 
dangers  where  none  existed. 

Nitros  would  never  consent  to  leave  the 
house  when  he  knew  that  his  master  was 
absent.  In  the  evening,  when  Andros  re- 
turned from  looking  after  his  various  in- 

16 


226  NEMESIS 

terests,  or  from  a  visit  to  Elymas  and  Abdiel, 
Nitros  would  absent  himself  far  into  the 
night.  His  master  had  investigated  and 
learned  that  he  never  entered  the  wine-shops, 
and  that  he  did  not  seem  to  care  for  the  best 
Ephesian  pramnium  wine.  He  therefore 
gave  him  a  key  to  the  outer  door  of  his  house. 
As  a  slave  always  slept  in  the  atrium,  the 
dwarf  found  no  difficulty  in  reaching  his  own 
apartment,  no  matter  at  what  hour  of  the 
night  he  returned.  Nor  did  his  master  en- 
quire of  him  the  nature  of  his  business  in 
these  night  journeys.  The  man  rose  betimes 
in  the  morning,  and  was  at  his  duty,  and 
thus,  as  Andros  had  proven  his  honesty,  he 
let  him  have  his  freedom. 

The  house  of  Andros  was  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  southeast  corner  of  the  city 
port,  a  large  body  of  artificial  water  in  the 
heart  of  the  city.  This  was  fed  by  the  river 
Silenus,  or  lower  river,  which  was  a  branch 
of  the  Caystrus.  The  port  was  about  one- 
half  mile  in  length  and  one-third  of  a  mile 
in  width,  the  greater  distance  running  east 
and  west.  It  was  surrounded  by  warehouses 
and  had  numberless  wharves  or  piers.  In 
front  of  the  warehouses  on  all  four  sides  of 
the  port,  and  not  far  from  the  water's  edge, 
was  built  a  colonnade  of  arches  which  pro- 
tected the  merchants  and  traders  from  sun 
and  rain.  At  all  times  of  the  day,  and  often 
far  into  the  night,  these  colonnades  and  the 
wharves  where  the  smaller  sailing  vessels 


NEMESIS  227 

were  moored  were  thronged  with  people.  It 
was  to  the  southern  colonnade  Nitros  most 
frequently  repaired  on  his  night  excursions. 
Here  he  met  Scythians  from  his  native  coun- 
try. 

On  the  night  of  the  interrogations  by  his 
master  he  selected  one  of  these  whom  he 
could  trust  and  sent  him  to  bring  Aratus  to 
the  water's  edge.  The  dwarf  had  given  his 
countryman  a  message  which  he  knew  would 
arouse  the  curiosity  of  Aratus. 

"A  new  god  hath  arisen.  Thy  life  is 
threatened.  Come." 

The  message  was  somewhat  Pythonic,  as 
he  intended  it  to  appear.  Nitros  founded 
the  first  part  on  some  vague  information 
gathered  concerning  his  master's  opinions  of 
the  gods.  He  did  not  care  one  iota  about 
the  fact,  for  he  lived  apparently  in  total  neg- 
lect of  all  the  gods.  His  religion,  since  his 
change  of  circumstances,  consisted  in  un- 
bounded gratitude  toward  his  benefactor. 

The  moon,  three  days  past  the  full,  shone 
brilliantly  over  the  city  and  dusted  the  sur- 
face of  the  waters  of  the  port  with  diamonds. 
Here  and  there,  darted  little  pleasure  craft, 
whose  sails  now  appeared  as  dark  as  night, 
and  again,  as  they  caught  the  moon's  rays, 
resembled  the  white  wings  of  some  large 
bird.  Large  barges,  propelled  more  slowly, 
were  filled  with  singing  and  drinking  men 
and  women,  whose  voices,  softened  by  the 
distance,  echoed  and  re-echoed  along  the 


228  NEMESIS 

arches  of  the  colonnade.  The  port  was  a 
favorite  resort  of  Ephesians  on  summer 
nights.  Laughter  and  song  and  music  floated 
across  the  water. 

The  custodian  of  Andros'  riches  took  little 
heed  of  the  softened  beauty  of  the  scene.  His 
mind  was  intent  on  one  project.  As  the 
minutes  flew  by  he  noted  with  satisfaction 
the  thinning  of  the  number  of  pleasure  boats 
on  the  water  and  of  those  people  who  paced 
up  and  down  beneath  arches  in  search  of 
coolness.  By  an  hour  after  midnight  the 
port  was  deserted,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  city  guards  who  watched  the  immense 
warehouses  during  the  night  against  fire  or 
thieves. 

He  did  not  grow  impatient  at  the  delayed 
return  of  the  messenger,  yet  he  felt  the  wait- 
ing tedious.  To  carry  out  a  previously  settled 
plan  he  would  disregard  time  and  by  sheer 
will-force  dominate  all  opposing  elements. 
Sitting  motionless  in  the  dark  shadow  of 
one  of  the  arches  he  was  not  observed  by  the 
passing  guard,  or  if  he  was  seen  was  thought 
to  be  some  tired  traveler  and  allowed  to  sleep 
on  unmolested.  Nitros  was  not  sleeping. 
Every  sense  was  alert,  every  nerve  tense, 
watching  and  waiting  with  a  cat-like  per- 
sistency which  was  at  length  rewarded. 

"Nitros,"  whispered  a  voice  from  the  deep 
shade  behind  him. 

"Who?" 

"Thy  countryman." 


NEMESIS  229 

"Hast  thou  brought  him  for  whom  I  sent 
thee?" 

"He  is  here." 

The  dwarf  arose  and  went  back  into  the 
deeper  shade  of  the  arches. 

"Thou  hast  done  well.  Go  now,  and  come 
here  to-morrow  night  for  thy  reward." 

"Is  it  thou,  my — my  fine  bellows-blower? 
What — what  meanest  thou  by  thy  strange 
message?" 

It  was  Aratus  who  spoke.  His  voice  was 
unsteady  and  husky,  for  he  had  partaken 
freely  of  pramnium  that  evening.  He  was  fn 
the  good  humor  of  a  successful  dice-thrower. 

"Sit  down  here,  thou  money-borrower, 
thou  man  of  three  letters." 

"How  now!  Dost  thou  dare  to  order  me. 
Me — I  mean  I.  Thou  black  Adonis!  Thou 
hand — handsome  Pluto !" 

The  dwarf  saw  that  Aratus  was  so  nearly 
incapable  that  it  would  be  necessary,  if  his 
plan  was  to  be  successful,  to  act  quickly 
before  the  fumes  of  the  wine  would  render 
him  insensible,  or  at  least  too  sleepy  to  talk. 

"Come,  Aratus,  come  with  me.  It  is  hot 
and  close  in  the  arcade.  Come  down  the  port 
steps  and  we  will  sit  near  the  water.  It  will 
be  cooler  there." 

"Ver-very  well.  I  will  go.  The  city  is 
not  fit — fit  for  a — a  patrician,  in  this  hot 
weather.  I  must  spend  a  month  on  the 
shore  of  the  Icarian  Sea.  Didst  ever  hear 
the  story  of  Icarus,  dwarf?  It's  funny,  very 


230  NEMESIS 

funny.  Never  mind.  Don't  remember  it 
myself  just  now.  I  will  tell  it  to  thee  some 
other  time.  Lend  me  thine  arm,  good  black- 
smith. The  falernian  is  going  to  my  legs! 
Help  me  down  these  steps.  Eh!  Steady — 
steady  now — there!  that  will  do.  This  is 
much  cooler — cooler  than  the  esplanade. 
Thanks,  slave.  I  see  thou  knowest  how  to 
treat  one  of  a  higher  station  in  life  than 
thine  own.  Didst  bring  a  flask  of  wine? 
No!  Then  thou  art — thou  art — a — a  fool." 

"Aratus,"  said  the  dwarf  sharply,  in  order 
to  arrest  the  attention  of  a  mind  dulled  by 
excess,  "listen  to  me.  Didst  thou  go  to  the 
priests  concerning  Andros?" 

His  dislike  for  his  rival  sobered  him  mo- 
mentarily on  hearing  his  name. 

"No,"  he  answered  distinctly.  "No,  I  re- 
gret I  have  delayed  so  far.  To-morrow  I 
will  give  the  priests  a  banquet — I  have  some 
gold  left  yet — and  then  I'll  fill  their  ears  with 
my  story.  Let  me  see;  what  is  it  I  am  to 
say?" 

"Never  mind  that  now.  Thou  hast  done 
nothing  yet  against  him?  Art  thou  sure?" 

"Be  not  vexed,  thou — thou  furnace-ten- 
der. Time  enough.  I  work  for  thee  as  well 
as  myself.  I  begin  to-morrow  to  make  an 
end  of  him — may  my  curses  go  with  him!" 

Nitros  was  satisfied  with  what  he  had 
learned. 

"Aratus!  listen  to  me.  Art  thou  listen- 
ing?" 


"No  one  saw   Nitros,  in  the  dark  hole  of  the  water- 
stairs,  fumble  in  his  tunic  for  a  small  vial."    Page  231. 


NEMESIS  231 

"Yes,  yes,  I  hear  thee,  but  I  would  thou 
hadst  some  wine." 

"Give  up  thy  plan.  Thou  shalt  not  harm 
him.  If  thou  dost  but  touch  him,  or  harm 
come  to  him  through  thee,  thy  life  shall  pay 
the  forfeit." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  Aratus,  drunk- 
enly.  "Thou  misshapen  dog  of  Cerberus! 
Dost  thou  dare  to  command  me!  Ha!  ha! 
—ha!" 

The  fumes  of  the  wine  were  again  assert- 
ing the  mastery.  Nitros  saw  that  he  would 
soon  be  asleep.  A  sudden  thought  came  to 
the  brain  of  the  Scythian.  What  if  he  let 
him  sleep  here  on  the  water-stairs,  within  a 
few  inches  of  the  water!  At  this  landing- 
place  he  knew  the  water  was  at  least  ten 
feet  deep.  The  cavern-like  stairs  in  the  em- 
bankment were  in  the  densest  shade.  No 
one  would  discover  the  drunken  sleeper, 
and — well,  his  new  occupation  had  some- 
what relaxed  the  strength  of  his  fingers. 
He  was  not  so  sure  he  could  clutch  a  man's 
throat  so  effectively  as  formerly. 

He  saw  that  drowsiness  was  fast  stealing 
over  the  sitting  form.  He  remained  silent. 
It  would  be  only  a  matter  of  a  few  minutes 
before  Aratus  would  be  unconscious.  No 
one  saw  Nitros,  in  the  dark  hole  of  the 
water-stairs,  fumble  in  his  tunic  for  a  small 
vial.  Taking  out  the  stopper,  he  held  it  near 
the  sleeper's  face.  He  was  conscious  of  its 
pungent  odor.  Arachne  had  been  sure  in 


232  NEMESIS 

the  making.  He  placed  his  lips  close  to  the 
mouth  of  the  small  bottle  and  blew  the  fumes 
of  the  poison  again  and  again  into  the  face 
of  Aratus.  Pausing  for  a  moment,  he  once 
more  blew  the  poison-laden  vapor  into  the 
nostrils  of  the  sleeper.  With  a  certain 
amount  of  cunning  he  wound  the  drunken 
man's  purse  two  or  three  times  around  his 
girdle.  It  would  be  evidence  that  the  man 
had  not  been  robbed. 

When  Nitros  saw  that  Aratus  was  in  a 
deep  trance-like  sleep,  he  arose  and  walked 
up  the  water-stairs  to  the  esplanade  above. 
He  knew  that  a  slight  movement  of  the 
sleeper  on  the  step  just  above  the  water 
would  cause  him  to  lose  his  balance. 

The  dwarf  took  up  his  position  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  balustrade,  overlooking  the  sleeper 
below.  Peering  down  into  the  black  dark- 
ness, he  could  discern  nothing  except  the 
faint  glimmer  of  one  white  hand  hanging 
listlessly  over  the  sleeper's  knee.  Without 
excitement,  patiently  he  waited,  a  type  of 
semi-barbaric  persistence  in  gaining  an  end. 
His  pulse  did  not  change  their  steady  beat- 
ing. Fate  would  accomplish  for  him  that 
which  he  desired. 

The  minutes  glided  on  unobserved.  The 
moon,  long  past  her  zenith,  illuminated  the 
waters  with  a  weird  yellowish  light.  He 
knew  her  rays  would  not  penetrate  the  cav- 
ern of  the  water-stairs.  He  did  not  know 
how  long  the  drunken  stupor  would  last. 


NEMESIS  233 

Yet  with  an  infinite  patience  he  stood  mo- 
tionless in  the  corner  of  the  balustrade, 
peering  down  at  the  huddled  figure  on  the 
lowest  step. 

The  back  of  Aratus  was  against  the  ma- 
sonry. That  might  steady  him  to  some  ex- 
tent. No  matter.  He  would  become  rest- 
less before  long.  Then  he  must  lose  his 
balance. 

Probably  for  an  hour  Nitros  waited  thus, 
when  his  pulse  quickened  as  he  heard  a 
slight  movement  below,  and  the  drunken 
voice  of  Aratus  mumbling  some  inarticulate 
sounds.  Then  there  was  a  movement  and  a 
sudden  splashing  sound.  A  cry  was  choked 
by  the  smothering  water.  The  dwarf  saw 
two  hands  held  up  appealingly  as  the  body 
sank  beneath  the  surface  in  the  dim  moon- 
light. He  watched  with  a  species  of  fasci- 
nation. The  tragedy  ended  by  the  rising  of 
a  number  of  bubbles  to  the  surface.  They 
appeared  for  one  moment  like  yellow  dia- 
monds on  the  water,  and  then  vanished. 

With  a  sound  resembling  the  growl  of  an 
animal,  Nitros  turned  from  the  place  and 
wended  his  way  homeward.  He  went  into 
a  tavern,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
swallowed  a  lar#e  draught  of  strong  wine. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
REPULSED 

The  custodian  of  the  coffers  of  the  ship- 
owner and  master  fisherman  was  busy  with 
his  ordinary  occupations  early  the  next 
morning".  Loss  of  sleep  did  not  appear  to 
affect  him.  Although  he  could  not  have 
slept  more  than  two  hours,  he  appeared  to 
be  refreshed  and  cheerful.  He  had  gone  out 
early  to  the  market  and  purchased  a  supply 
of  fresh  flowers  for  the  day  with  a  lavish 
expenditure.  Every  vase  and  every  vessel 
suitable  for  holding  sprays  of  imprisoned 
perfume  was  filled. 

When  Andros  emerged  from  his  sleeping 
room,  the  dwarf  was  ready  at  his  door  with 
wine  for  his  master's  early  morning  refresh- 
ment. He  looked  around  the  room  which 
Nitros  had  decorated  so  lavishly  with  pleased 
surprise.  His  one  extravagance,  if  Andros 
could  be  said  to  have  an  extravagance,  was 
flowers.  He  would  have  spent  large  sums 
in  sending  them  to  Lydda  were  it  not  that 
Mellanides  cultivated  the  best  to  be  found 
in  Ephesus. 

"Are  we  celebrating  some  great  victory 
to-day,  Nitros,  that  thou  hast  decorated  the 
house  so  richly?" 

234 


REPULSED  235 

"Nay,  master,  no  particular  victory.  Yet 
the  gods  are  good  to  thee." 

"Dost  think,  then,  that  my  money  chest 
doth  too  much  overflow?" 

"Not  so.  But  nothing  is  too  good  for 
thee,  master.  A  house  without  flowers  is 
as  a  woman  without  a  wedding  ring,  or  as 
a  beautiful  corpse  without  the  light  of  life." 

"Verily  thou  art  a  poet,  Nitros.  How  for- 
tunate was  I  to  discover  thee  at  the  forge!" 

"I  thank  the  gods  that  thou  didst  so. 
Henceforth  my  life  is  thine.  It  were  will- 
ingly lost  in  thy  defence." 

Nitros  kept  his  secret  concerning  the  fate 
of  his  master's  rival.  He  was  aware  that 
xthe  death  of  Aratus  would  soon  be  made 
public,  at  latest  when  the  body  floated.  He 
knew  that  it  would  be  impossible  in  the  much 
traversed  waters  of  one  of  the  busiest  ports 
in  the  world  that  the  body  would  remain 
long  undiscovered.  His  black  beard  and 
swarthy  skin  helped  him  to  hide  or  disguise 
any  passing. emotion  that  might  betray  him. 
Although  not  uncouth,  he  possessed  some 
of  the  stolidity  of  a  primitive  race  and  was 
in  consequence  troubled  with  fewer  emo- 
tions, and,  it  may  be,  twinges  of  conscience, 
than  his  master  would  have  suffered  under 
the  same  circumstances. 

The  discovery  was  made  much  sooner 
than  the  hunchback  expected.  While  An- 
dros  was  at  his  morning  meal,  the  slave  who 
slept  in  the  atrium  came  to  him  saying  that 


236  REPULSED 

a  messenger  from  his  fish-steward  of  the 
agora  venalis  wished  to  see  him.  The  mes- 
senger was  told  to  enter. 

"Good  sir,  thy  steward  hath  sent  me  to 
tell  thee  that  some  men,  early  this  morning, 
were  standing  at  the  corner  of  the  esplanade 
overlooking  the  southeastern  water-stairs, 
and  that  in  looking  down  into  the  clear 
water  at  the  foot  they  saw  the  body  of  a 
man  who  had  been  drowned  during  the 
night." 

"Well,  my  good  man,"  said  Andros,  in 
unconcern,  "what  interest  have  I  in  that? 
Will  he  not  make  good  food  for  lampreys? 
The  port  waters  have  swallowed  many  a 
bankrupt  spendthrift  before  now.  Dost  thou 
think  there  is  anything  startling  in  this?" 

"But,  sir,  the  city  guard,  with  a  long  grap- 
pling hook,  raised  the  body  to  the  surface 
and  pulled  it  to  the  lower  step." 

"Well?"  said  Andros,  as  he  continued  to 
pick  daintily  at  his  breakfast. 

"Thy  steward  sent  me  to  tell  thee  who  it 
was  that  met  his  death  last  night." 

"He  is  very  considerate.  Who  may  the 
unfortunate  fellow  be?" 

"It  is  the  body  of  Aratus." 

"Aratus!  Aratus  sayest  thou?"  Andros 
jumped  to  his  feet  in  the  greatest  excitement. 
He  paced  the  floor  several  times,  oblivious 
of  the  presence  of  the  messenger.  "You  may 
go.  Stay.  Here  is  money,"  and  he  gave  him 


REPULSED          -       237 

a  silver  coin.  "Tell  my  steward  I  send  him 
my  thanks  for  his  trouble." 

The  news  affected  Andros  strongly.  His 
first  thought  was  that  of  intense  satisfaction 
that  his  rival  was  out  of  his  path. 

"The  gods  be  thanked,"  he  said,  but  im- 
mediately checked  himself,  saying,  "God,  I 
thank  thee." 

In  critical  moments,  or  in  moments  of 
great  excitement,  the  habits  of  a  lifetime  as- 
sert themselves.  Do  what  he  would,  strive 
as  he  might  to  overcome  the  feeling  which 
he  instinctively  felt  to  be  unworthy  of  him, 
he  could  not  help  feeling  rejoiced  that  the 
only  one  who  was  really  a  rival  to  him  for 
the  hand  of  Lydda  was  out  of  the  way. 

As  a  rival,  he  naturally  wished  him  out  of 
the  field,  but  as  a  man  he  bore  him  no 
ill  will,  and  in  other  circumstances  he  could 
have  lived  on  friendly  terms  with  Aratus, 
although  the  latter  was  of  a  character  and 
disposition  so  diametrically  opposite  to  his 
own  that  he  would  never  have  been  on  terms 
of  familiarity. 

"Nitros,"  he  called,  "Nitros,  go  to  the 
agora.  Go  to  the  city  port;  go  everywhere. 
Learn  all  thou  canst  of  the  death  of  Aratus. 
Do  not  delay  thy  return  longer  than  is 
necessary." 

A  peculiar  mission  for  the  dwarf!  His 
care  on  returning  must  be  not  to  know  too 
much,  and  thus  divulge  his  own  complicity. 
Within  an  hour  he  returned. 


238  REPULSED 

"Aratus  was  not  robbed.  His  net  purse 
was  wrapped  around  his  cincture  securely. 
The  city  authorities  think  he  was  drunk  and 
rolled  down  the  steps  of  the  water-stairs,  but 
they  find  no  bruises  on  his  body.  There  were 
twelve  gold  pieces  in  his  purse,  enough  to 
give  him  handsome  cremation.  The  Jew 
money-lenders  are  frantic  for  the  loss  of  the 
money  they  have  advanced  him  on  the  pros- 
pect of  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of 
Mellanides." 

"Hath  he  done  such  a  thing  as  that!  Bor- 
rowed of  the  Jews  to  advance  his  suit  with 
Lydda!" 

"  'Tis  well  known  in  the  city,  master; 
didst  thou  not  know?" 

"No." 

Notwithstanding  the  exciting,  and  to  him 
really  regrettable,  news,  Andros  could  not 
help  allowing  his  mind  to  dwell  on  the  in- 
creased possibilities  in  favor  of  his  suit.  He 
well  knew  that  old  Mellanides  and  Lydda 
regarded  Aratus  as  a  lifelong  acquaintance, 
and  gave  him  as  free  an  entry  to  their  house 
as  they  accorded  himself.  He  was  aware, 
also,  that  while  he  was  often  for  days  en- 
gaged in  his  business  of  the  fisheries,  or 
looking  after  important  cargoes  in  his  ship- 
ping interests,  Aratus,  although  he  was 
known  to  have  but  scant  visible  means  of 
support,  seemed  to  have  unlimited  time  at 
his  disposal.  How  often  had  he  spent  that 


REPULSED  239 

time  in  the  company  of  Lydda?  What  suc- 
cess had  he  achieved? 

Ah!  perhaps  that  strange  excitement  of 
Lydda,  and  its  quickly  followed  coldness, 
were  caused  by  some  overture  on  the  part 
of  Aratus !  He  would  delay  no  longer.  He 
would  this  very  day  put  the  fate  of  his  hap- 
piness to  the  test.  That  afternoon  he  re- 
paired to  the  mansion  of  the  old  warrior. 

"Welcome,  welcome,  my  boy.  Saidst  thou 
that  thou  wert  tired  of  coming  to  see  me? 
Thou  mightest  live  in  Athens,  or  Rome  or 
Alexandria,  for  the  little  we  see  of  thee  now. 
I  like  to  see  stalwart  young  men  about  me. 
Lydda  will  be  glad  to  see  thee,  I  am  sure." 

Thus  chatted  on  the  bluff  old  soldier  whom 
Andros  met  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  the 
house. 

"Ho!  boys!  slaves!  run  and  get  wine  for 
Andros.  Have  it  ready  in  the  peristyle. 
Young  men  are  always  thirsty,  eh,  Andros  ? 
Well,  old  men — old  soldiers  at  all  events — 
can  take  their  share  of  falernian,  too !  What 
news  from  Rome,  boy?  Are  the  legions 
starting  out  anywhere  for  fresh  conquests? 
I  hear  little  of  the  news  now.  Would  that 
I  were  twenty  years  younger.  I  would  fol- 
low the  latarum  again.  Well,  well,  it  is  no 
use  grumbling  at  fate.  I  hear  there  is  likely 
to  be  trouble  in  Syria.  Hast  heard  aught  of 
it,  Andros?" 

In  this  way,  with  the  garrulity  of  old  age, 
he  chatted  on  until  they  reached  the  house. 


240  REPULSED 

As  soon  as  Mellanides  had  accompanied  An- 
dros  to  the  presence  of  Lydda,  forgetting  the 
wine  he  had  boasted  of,  he  went  away  hur- 
riedly out  into  his  famous  rose  garden,  where 
he  spent  many  hours  each  day. 

Once  more  Andros  was  enthralled  by 
Lydda's  wonderful  beauty  and  womanly 
grace.  She  received  him  with  the  easy 
familiarity  of  old.  The  calm  and  poise  she 
maintained  as  ever.  The  queenly  pose,  the 
graceful- gestures  of  her  long  shapely  arms, 
even  the  folds  of  her  white  Grecian  drapery 
gave  him  the  keenest  pleasure.  The  more 
impassioned  his  love  became,  the  farther 
away  and  the  more  unattainable  she  ap- 
peared. Would  such  manly,  honest  love 
never  touch  a  responsive  chord  in  her  heart? 
Surely  she  could  read  his  love  in  his  face. 

"What  if  I  come,  fairest  of  Ephesians,  to 
put  in  practice  the  lessons  thou  hast  taught 
me,"  he  began. 

"On  the  zither?  That  is  delightful!  I 
will  have  them  brought.  Girls — " 

She  turned  to  her  slave  girls  in  a  far  cor- 
ner of  the  peristyle. 

"No,  no,  Lydda.  Thou  mistakest.  Rather 
on  the  heart-strings  of  the  fairest  of  mor- 
tals!" 

Lydda  blushed  slightly.  Such  words  were 
sweet  to  her  coming  from  one  she  loved  in 
secret. 

"Thou  hast  been  a  clever  teacher.  Saidst 
thou  not  to  me  how  a  woman  should  love? 


REPULSED  241 

Although  thou  wouldst  not  teach  me  a  man's 
wooing,  I  think  I  have  wit  enough  to  see  it 
doth  not  vary  much  from  that  of  woman's." 

"I  remember  that  I  told  thee  how  a  woman 
loves.  Thou  wert  to  tell  me  how  a  man 
should  love  and  woo." 

Andros  was  not  certain  whether  she  was 
in  earnest,  or  merely  like  children  in  their 
games,  rehearsing  a  play  intended  only 
for  amusement. 

"In  this  my  heart  shall  be  my  teacher  and 
I  its  docile  pupil.  This  is  how  I  would 
begin — " 

Just*  at  that  moment  the  excited  voice  of 
Mellanides  was  heard  calling: 

"Ho!  ho!  Lydda!  Lydda!  Andros!  Hast 
heard  the  news?  'Tis  wonderful !  Aratus  is 
drowned  in  the  Sacred  Port — no,  in  the  city 
port.  His  body  was  found  this  morning. 
Poor  young  man!" 

"Aratus  dead!"  screamed  Lydda,  in  a 
paroxysm  of  excitement.  She  rushed  to 
Andros. 

"Oh !  oh !  I  am  glad— glad !  The  gods— O 
Andros,  Andros,  thou  dost  not  know!  I 
feared  him.  I  feared  for  my  life.  I  hated 
him.  He  had  sworn  to  make  me  his  wife. 
Now  he  is  dead — dead !  Thou  wouldst  have 
protected  me,  wouldst  thou  not?  Let  us 
rejoice." 

By  the  occasional  catching  of  her  breath 
it  was  plain  that  she  was  becoming  hyster- 

16 


242  REPULSED 

ical,  notwithstanding  the  note  of  exultation 
in  her  voice. 

"Calm  thyself,  dear  lady.  There  is  nought 
to  fear.  Seat  thyself  here  and  tell  me  all." 

He  gently  pushed  her  down  on  the  cush- 
ions of  the  marble  bench.  It  was  some  min- 
utes before  she  regained  her  composure. 
While  waiting  for  her  to  recover,  Andros 
was  amazed  at  the  sudden  transitions  from 
calm  to  the  greatest  emotionalism  which  she 
manifested.  It  was  a  phase  of  a  highly  sensi- 
tive woman's  nature  which  he  did  not  pre- 
tend to  understand. 

* 

When  she  had  regained  control  of  herself 
sufficiently  to  be  able  to  talk  coherently,  she 
told  him  of  all  the  advances  of  Aratus,  of  his 
veiled  threats,  of  his  recently  discovered  im- 
pecuniosity,  and  of  her  fear  of  him.  As  the 
relation  progressed  he  began  to  understand 
the  reason  of  her  strange  conduct  on  his  for- 
mer visit.  Mixed  with  the  sentiment  of 
anger  that  was  taking  possession  of  him  was 
a  feeling  of  gladness,  arising  from  the  ac- 
knowledged fact  that  she  looked  to  him  for 
protection. 

"His  shade  is  now  in  Orcus,"  said  the 
lover.  "Thou  hast  nothing  more  to  fear 
from  him.  Hadst  thou  told  me  before  of 
this  annoyance,  I  would  have  protected  thee, 
even  with  my  life." 

Lydda  looked  up  suddenly.  Gratitude 
shone  in  her  large  eyes,  now  wet  with  tears. 

"I  know  thou  wouldst,  dear — friend." 


REPULSED  243 

"Friend !  O  my  Lydda,  may  I  not  be,  wilt 
thou  not  call  me,  more  than  mere  friend? 
Lydda!  Lydda!  canst  thou  not  see?  Dost 
thou  not  know?  Lydda,  I  love  thee — love 
thee  passionately,  ardently.  I  offer  thee  a 
love  such  as  no  man  ever  offered  woman  be- 
fore. Be  mine.  Give  me  the  right  to  pro- 
tect thee.  I  cannot  live  without  thee.  Wilt 
thou  not  crown  my  happiness  by  giving  thy- 
self to  me?" 

Lydda  made  to  rise  from  her  sitting  pos- 
ture. Andros  quickly  stretched  forth  his 
hand  to  assist  her.  She  retained  it  when  she 
stood  in  front  of  him.  She  then  placed  her 
other  hand  over  his.  He  regarded  this  as  a 
good  omen. 

"Andros,  friend  of  my  childhood,"  she 
said,  "I  will  confess  that  I  love  thee.  I  have 
loved  thee  long." 

A  rapturous  "Ah!"  and  he  was  about  to 
fold  her  to  his  breast.  She  repelled  the  ad- 
vance by  an  almost  imperceptible  stiffening 
of  her  arms. 

"Listen,  Andros.  I  love  thee,  and  my  af- 
fections can  never  be  given  to  another.  Yet 
— yet — oh,  be  not  angry — I  cannot  marry 
thee.  Ask  me  not  to  explain.  Thou  must 
have  patience.  If  thou  lovest  me  as  thou 
safest,  time  may  clear  the  mystery  for  both 
of  us." 

"But,  my  love,  listen  one  moment.  I  can- 
not live  without  thee!  Thou  art  the  sun  of 


244  REPULSED 

my  life!  Send  me  not  out  into  darkness. 
Have  pity!" 

"It  cannot  be!" 

She  took  away  her  left  hand,  and  as  de- 
terminedly withdrew  her  right.  Slowly  her 
hands  dropped  to  her  side.  Steadily  looking 
into  the  face  of  Andros,  but  with  eyes  that 
glistened  with  moisture,  as  one  in  a  dream 
she  moved  slowly  away  until  at  last  she 
passed  behind  the  arras  of  her  own  apart- 
ment. 

Andros  was  dazed.  He  stood  with  his 
hands  still  supplicatingly  outstretched 
towards  the  direction  where  she  had  disap- 
peared. He  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  a 
horrible  dream.  As  soon  as  his  benumbed 
mind  recovered  from  the  shock  it  had  re- 
ceived, he  threw  the  folds  of  his  toga  over 
his  shoulder,  jumped  the  low  parapet  of  the 
open  side  of  the  peristyle,  and  with  long 
swinging  steps  made  all  haste  for  the  city. 

Mellanides,  in  his  rose  garden,  seeing  him, 
called: 

"Ho!  Andros!  Ho!  thou  art  not  going  so 
soon?  Thou  wilt  stay  for  the  evening 
meal?" 

He  heard  the  old  man's  kindly  call,  but  did 
not  heed  it.  Mellanides  went  at  once  to  the 
house. 

"Hast  thou  quarrelled  with  Andros?"  he 
asked  his  daughter,  sharply. 

She  answered  simply: 

"No." 


CHAPTER  XXV 
THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

The  rejected  lover  walked  many  miles  that 
afternoon  and  evening.  The  shattering  of 
all  his  hopes  was  a  severe  blow.  Blindly  he 
strode  along,  he  knew  nor  cared  not  whither, 
at  one  time  rinding  himself  in  the  midst  of 
the  busy  throng  of  the  agora,  and  later 
threading  the  winding  paths  that  crossed 
and  recrossed  each  other  in  the  grove  of 
Diana.  When  he  realized  where  he  was,  he 
turned  from  the  place  in  disgust.  At  night- 
fall he  found  himself  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
old  house  of  Pelopidas,  the  residence  of 
Elymas.  He  debated  with  himself  whether 
he  should,  at  this  late  hour,  visit  the  family 
and  disturb  them  with  his  troubles.  Per- 
haps Abdiel  was  there.  He  could  unfold  to 
him  all  his  disappointment  and  receive  ad- 
vice and  consolation.  Elymas,  he  knew, 
would  prove  a  sympathetic  listener.  But 
why,  he  asked  himself,  should  he  upset  the 
peace  and  serenity  of  this  charitable  family? 
Why  bring  disturbance  into  their  calm  lives? 
He  had  experienced  so  much  kindness  at 
their  hands  that  he  felt  it  would  be  ungrate- 
ful, and  in  a  sense  unfair,  to  make  them  the 
repository  of  his  sorrows.  And  yet  he  was 

245 


246       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

in  that  state  of  mind  in  which  he  felt  it  im- 
perative to  unfold  his  grief  to  some  one. 
Who  would  listen  with  more  helpful  sym- 
pathy than  the  members  of  this  family? 

Without  conscious  knowledge  of  how  he 
arrived  there  he  found  himself  on  the  porch 
of  the  farmhouse.  He  did  not  enter  the 
house,  but  sat  down,  his  elbows  on  his  knees 
and  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  a  prey  to 
the  most  gloomy  thoughts.  His  life's  am- 
bition seemed  to  have  slipped  away  from 
him.  He  reviewed  his  career,  scrutinizing 
himself  severely,  as  if  to  find  a  justification 
in  his  own  conduct  for  Lydda's  rejection  of 
him.  His  past,  in  the  light  of  his  new  knowl- 
edge, was  not  such  as  to  produce  a  favorable 
verdict,  but  judging  himself  by  his  former 
pagan  standard  he  could  not  say  that  his 
life  had  been  such  that  a  woman  who  was  a 
worshipper  of  Diana  would  reject  him,  even 
if  she  were  acquainted  with  all  its  details. 

He  derived  one  benefit  from  his  inspec- 
tion. His  new  belief  in  the  Christ  made 
him  conscious  of  the  higher  moral  standard 
which  would  be  demanded  of  him,  and, 
withal,  there  was  one  golden  thread  of  hope 
running  through  the  tangled  skein  of  his 
unhappy  thoughts.  Lydda  had  said  she 
loved  him.  This  was  a  joy  and  a  consola- 
tion. What  might  he  not  yet  hope  for? 
Would  she  not  some  day  be  induced  to 
change  her  mind  when  the  unknown  and 
intangible  obstacle  was  removed? 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       247 

He  asked  himself  whether  he  had  acted 
fairly  and  justly  with  her  in  not  informing 
her  of  his  change  of  faith.  Would  it  have 
made  any  difference  in  the  result?  He  could 
not  tell.  Oh !  if  Lydda  could  be  induced  to 
accept  this  new  belief!  At  least  she  loved 
him.  She  had  declared  this.  This  was  the 
one  ray  of  cheering  light  in  his  gloom  of 
soul.  This  was  his  golden  thread  of  hope 
which,  joined  to  the  strong  desire  that  at 
some  time  she  would  be  brought  to  see  the 
beauties  of  the  new  faith,  caused  him  to 
throw  off  some  of  his  depression. 

How  was  he  to  set  about  converting  her 
to  the  faith  of  Christ?  The  doubt  came  to 
him  during  his  long  evening  cogitation 
whether  action  to  this  end  on  his  part  would 
be  honorable.  If  she  were  to  accept  the  new 
religion,  it  must  be  for  its  own  sake,  not  for 
his.  On  the  other  hand,  if  she  were  finally 
to  accept  him — and  he  believed  that  in  some 
way  this  would  come  to  pass — she  must  ac- 
cept him  for  his  own  sake,  and  not  for  any 
creed  he  held. 

As  he  thought  these  things  over,  his  de- 
sire became  stronger  to  secure  for  her  the 
new  knowledge  so  lately  acquired  by  him- 
self. He  saw  plainly  that  after  the  events 
of  that  afternoon  he  could  not  be  her  in- 
structor. Perhaps  Elymas,  or  even  Abdiel, 
would  undertake  the  task. 

Filled  with  a  new  hope,  he  knocked  at  the 
door.  The  family  welcomed  him  as  usual. 


248       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

They  were  not  surprised  to  see  him  so  late 
at  night,  as  his  visits  were  made  at  any  hour. 
Elymas  thought  that  business  interests  kept 
him  thus  late  on  this  occasion. 

"Thou  art  a  veritable  night-bird,"  said 
Elymas,  playfully,  "yet  thy  room  is  ready. 
It  is  always  saved  for  thee." 

"Thanks,  my  worthy  friend.  May  the 
Christ  bless  thee." 

"And  thine.    May  he  bless  thee,  too." 

"I  fain  would  talk  to  thee  in  the  garden, 
Elymas,  if  it  be  not  too  late  for  thee." 

As  they  slowly  paced  up  and  down  the 
garden  path,  Andros  told  him,  first,  of  his 
bitter  disappointment,  and  then  of  his  re- 
viving hopes,  and  finally  of  his  project  for 
the  conversion  of  Lydda. 

"Wilt  thou  go  to  her  and  teach  her  of  the 
Christ?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Nay,  nay,  my  impetuous  friend,  that  can 
hardly  be  done.  We  do  not  go  out  at  pres- 
ent to  search  for  disciples  here  in  Ephesus. 
Should  the  lady  thou  speakest  of  desire  in- 
struction, we  would  gladly  give  it.  While 
the  church  in  Ephesus  is  still  in  its  infancy 
it  would  be  folly  to  be  too  bold,  and  by  incit- 
ing opposition,  and  perhaps  persecution,  to 
undo  all  we  have  done." 

"Canst  thou  not  suggest  some  other 
plan?" 

"Thou  hast  in  thine  own  power  an  effec- 
tive means." 

"What?    Tell  me.     I  will  at  once  put  it 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       249 

into  execution,"  said  Andros,  eagerly.  "I 
will  do  anything  if  I  may  yet  win  her." 

Elymas  saw  clearly  the  very  human  side 
of  Andros'  zeal,  and  smiled. 

"Thou  canst  pray  to  the  Christ  that  he 
may  send  her  the  light  of  faith  as  he  hath 
sent  it  to  thee.  When  thou  hast  received 
the  holy  waters  on  thy  brow  thy  prayers  will 
be  more  efficacious.  Do  not  imagine,  An- 
dros, that  I  do  not  sympathize  with  thee  in 
thy  disappointment.  My  heart  goes  out  to 
thee  in  sympathy.  When  thou  art  received 
into  the  mystical  body  of  Christ  thou  wilt 
learn  better  how  to  bear  trials  and  difficul- 
ties, and  turn  them  to  thine  own  good.  I 
know  thy  heartache  at  the  present  time.  I 
feel  for  thee.  Perhaps- it  is  the  Christ  who 
is  testing  thy  soul  now  to  reward  thee  with 
greater  consolation  in  the  future." 

"I  thank  thee,  Elymas.  Thou  hast  always 
been  my  friend.  Didst  thou  not  tell  me  that 
the  love  of  man  for  woman  was  one  of  the 
benignest  gifts  of  God  to  man?" 

"In  the  natural  order,  yes;  and  I  repeat  it; 
but  forget  not  that  there  is  an  overruling 
Providence,  son,  that  directs  all  things. 
Look  at  this  event  in  the  light  of  the  new 
faith.  Believe  me,  it  is  all  for  the  best.  Per- 
haps hadst  thou  won  thy  Lydda,  she  might 
have  turned  thee  back  to  her  false  gods." 

"Never!"  said  Andros,  emphatically,  "but 
I  believe  she  would  have  come  with  me  to 
the  new  one." 


250       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

"May  God  grant  that  this  may  come  to 
pass.  She  loveth  thee,  thou  sayest;  do  not 
despair  then  of  winning  her.  God  directeth 
all  things." 

"Thou  hast  a  faithful  steward,"  continued 
Elymas,  "in  the  market-place  to  look  to  thine 
interests.  Thine  absence  from  thine  own 
house  can  be  arranged.  Stay  with  us  for 
some  time,  Andros,  and  let  Abdiel,  who 
comes  again  to-morrow,  and  myself,  finish 
thy  instruction,  so  that  thou  wilt  be  ready 
to  receive  baptism.  Thou  knowest  that  thou 
art  always  welcome.  Thy  room  is  ready." 

The  prospect  of  spending  a  few  days  once 
more  within  the  peaceful  walls  of  the  home 
of  Elymas,  in  his  present  perturbed  condi- 
tion, was  particularly  inviting  to  Andros. 
The  companionship  of  David,  to  whom  he 
was  sincerely  attached,  the  kindly  advice 
which  the  years  and  experience  of  Elymas 
rendered  him  capable  of  giving,  and  the  re- 
ligious instruction  and  the  marvelous  stories 
of  the  Christ  which  fell  from  the  lips  of 
Abdiel,  were  all  inducements  to  him  to  accept 
the  invitation. 

"I  will  return  to  mine  own  house  to-night, 
my  kind  friend,  but  I  will  be  with  thee  by 
the  noon  meal  to-morrow." 

"Thou  art  welcome.  When  thou  comest 
I  will  tell  thee  of  the  time  I  saw  the  Christ," 
said  Elymas. 

Andros  walked  home  in  better  spirits  than 
were  his  for  many  hours  since  the  unpro- 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       251 

pitious  interview  with  the  daughter  of  Mel- 
lanides.  He  wondered  whether  he  would 
again  be  thrilled  by  the  story  of  Elymas,  as 
he  had  been  by  that  of  Abdiel. 

The  next  evening  saw  the  two  sitting  in 
the  grape  arbor  where  Abdiel  had  told  his 
wonderful  tale  of  Nairn. 

"Thou  hast  seen  the  Christ,  too?"  asked 
Andros. 

"Aye,  more  than  once,"  the  other  replied. 
"Wouldst  thou  hear  the  account  of  a  great 
miracle?  Before  I  came  to  this  city  my 
home  was  in  Ascalon  by  the  sea.  I  went  to 
the  holy  city  of  Jerusalem  frequently.  Two 
years  before  the  event  I  am  about  to  relate, 
I  saw  the  great  Teacher.  At  the  time  this 
miracle  took  place  I  was  again  in  Jerusalem. 

"There  was  at  this  time  an  unrest  among 
the  followers  of  Christ.  There  had  been 
marvelous  stories  circulated.  Every  one  was 
looking  for  some  portentous  event  to  take 
place,  yet  none  knew  exactly  what  to  expect. 
There  were  in  Jerusalem  probably  five  hun- 
dred people  who  accepted  the  divinity  of 
Christ  and  worshipped  him  as  God.  All 
these,  at  this  time,  were,  in  some  vague  way, 
waiting  for  some  great  event  to  happen.  A 
fair  proportion  of  this  number  believed  that 
Christ  was  about  to  establish  his*  throne  in 
Jerusalem. 

"The  divine  Teacher  had  founded  his 
Church  and  had  given  his  apostles  power  to 
teach  and  baptize  throughout  the  world. 


252       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

One  morning,  the  Lord  came  out  into  the 
streets  of  the  city,  openly  showing  himself 
to  the  people  after  his  resurrection.  Thou 
must  know,  O  Andros,  that  he  appeared  to 
but  few  people,  and  only  at  intervals,  after 
his  coming  back  to  life. 

"The  morning  I  mention  he  came  into  the 
streets,  accompanied  by  his  chosen  band  of 
apostles,  his  mother,  and  some  of  the  women 
who  had  followed  and  ministered  to  him 
and  his  twelve  for  the  past  three  years. 

"I  was  standing  in  the  street  not  far  from 
the  house  whence  they  emerged.  That 
which  immediately  impressed  me  was  the 
exultation  and  joyousness  that  marked  every 
countenance  of  that  little  group.  I  could 
only  compare  it  to  the  consciousness  in  each 
of  the  sudden  possession  of  some  invaluable 
treasure.  In  a  very  short  time  little  com- 
panies of  two  or  three  joined  those  who  were 
going  toward  the  fish-gate  in  the  city  wall 
towards  the  east. 

"The  size  of  the  gathering  continually  in- 
creased as  the  word  went  from  mouth  to 
mouth  that  the  risen  Master  was  again  in 
Jerusalem.  By  the  time  he  passed  through 
the  city  gate  he  was  followed  by  several  hun- 
dreds of  men  and  women.  His  presence  had 
a  wonderful  fascination  for  the  multitude. 
From  him  seemed  to  emanate  a  joyousness 
that  filled  all  hearts. 

"I,  who  already  believed,  was  influenced 
by  an  indefinable  joy  that  was  ringing  in 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       253 

my  heart.  It  gave  me  courage  to  do  and 
dare  all  for  this  great  one  whom  all  loved, 
and  who,  we  felt,  loved  us  all  in  so  ineffable 
a  manner  that  it  is  not  easy  to  explain. 

"As  the  great  Teacher  walked  slowly 
along  the  Bethany  road,  he  spoke  freely  with 
those  who  were  near  him.  Never  did  he  ap- 
pear more  fair  or  beautiful.  Every  trace  of 
the  cruelty  of  his  sufferings  had  disappeared, 
except  that  we  saw,  with  the  greatest  sense 
of  awe,  when  in  conversation  he  gracefully 
waved  his  hand,  the  mark  of  the  wound  the 
nail  had  made. 

"I  had  seen  the  Master  more  than  once 
before  his  passion.  I  regarded  him  at  those 
times  as  the  most  beautiful  of  the  sons  of 
men.  Now  there  was  a  different  kind  of 
beauty  in  him.  The  features  were  ethereal- 
ized.  In  looking  into  that  face  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  it  was  not  in  some  way  trans- 
parent. We  caught,  as  it  were,  a  faint 
glimpse  of  his  divine  nature  shining  through 
his  human  features.  It  made  our  hearts, 
notwithstanding  the  awe  we  felt,  go  out  to 
him  in  love  and  adoration.  As  he  talked,  we 
felt  that  we  were  strengthened  by  his  grace 
and  marvelous  love.  I  felt  myself  to  be  in 
the  sweetest  atmosphere  of  holiest  peace. 
My  heart  expanded  and  I  loved  all  mankind. 

"Christ,  having  gone  but  a  short  distance 
outside  the  city  wall,  turned  into  a  garden 
and  walked  to  the  summit  of  a  small  hill. 
Five  hundred  men  and  women  grouped 


254       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

themselves  around  him  as  he  spoke.  Never 
shall  I  forget  that  sea  of  loving,  expectant, 
upturned  faces!  I  stood  near  the  top  of  the 
hill.  Casting  a  glance  towards  the  city,  I 
saw  with  alarm  that  there  was  considerable 
commotion  among  the  people  gathered  on 
the  city  wall  near  the  fish-gate.  The  soldiers 
appeared  uneasy  at  seeing  so  large  a  gath- 
ering near  the  city,  probably  expecting  an 
uprising.  I  saw  a  Roman  officer,  whom  I 
recognized  as  the  one  who  had  pierced  the 
side  of  our  Lord  with  a  spear,  talking  and 
gesticulating  to  the  people  on  the  wall.  He 
evidently  reassured  both  the  soldiers  and  the 
people,  for  the  signs  of  excitement  and  the 
running  to  and  fro  suddenly  ceased.  I  could 
see  that  many  were  endeavoring  to  secure  a 
favorable  position,  in  order  to  witness  what- 
ever was  to  take  place. 

"Some  of  our  company  who  could  not  get 
near  the  small  elevation  in  the  garden  filled 
the  public  road.  From  my  position  I  saw 
these  hindered  the  progress  of  a  caravan  of 
camels  coming  from  the  north  through 
Jericho.  Many  of  the  tired  beasts,  as  soon 
as  their  way  was  obstructed,  at  once  lay 
down  in  the  dust  of  the  road.  Others  stood, 
meekly  ruminating,  swaying  their  long  necks 
from  side  to  side. 

"Now  the  most  marvelous  thing  in  the 
world  began  to  happen.  Christ  continued 
to  speak,  and  as  he  did  so  I  imagined  there 
was  an  increase  in  the  height  of  his  stature, 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       255 

but  on  looking  closer  I  found  I  was  mis- 
taken. Looking  down  to  the  rock  on  which 
he  was  standing,  I  found  that,  instead  of 
increasing  in  stature,  he  was  not  standing 
upon  the  ground,  but  was  in  the  air  several 
inches  above  it. 

"Very  slowly  he  began  to  rise.  When  he 
was  about  a  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
amazed  company,  he  raised  his  right  hand 
and  blessed  them  all  with  the  sign  of  the 
cross.  I  do  not  know  the  length  of  time 
occupied  in  the  ascension.  We  lost  all  re- 
membrance of  the  passing  minutes  in  our 
awed  amazement.  After  the  blessing  given 
to  the  multitude,  and  one  long,  loving  look 
at  his  holy  mother,  the  Lord  ascended 
higher.  With  hands  now  upraised,  as  if 
impatient  for  the  embrace  of  his  heavenly 
Father,  he  slowly  ascended.  Then  we 
caught  again  another  faint  glimpse  of  the 
ineffable  majesty  of  his  divinity.  His  gar- 
ments became  effulgent.  Never,  never  shall 
I  forget  that  wonderful  vision.  A  bright- 
ness surrounded  him  that  was  almost  blind- 
ing to  our  mortal  sight. 

"Thabor!  Thabor  again!'  I  heard  Peter 
say,  in  an  awed  whisper. 

"We  on  the  summit  of  the  hill  dropped  on 
our  knees.  Slowly  the  great  figure  was  still 
ascending.  Long  we  gazed  with  aching 
eyes.  Brilliant  and  ever  more  brilliant  be- 
came the  light  that  surrounded  him.  Awed 
and  breathless  we  remained  gazing,  while 


256       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

far  up  in  the  heavens  he  appeared,  not  ob- 
scurely, but  as  clearly  as  we  had  seen  him  a 
few  minutes  before  standing  with  us  on  the 
summit. 

"Then  it  appeared,  in  the  haze  of  light 
which  began  to  surround  him  and  shed  its 
refulgence  on  us  below,  as  if  thousands  of 
bright  spirits  came  to  meet  and  welcome 
him.  Whether  they  were  the  bright  inhabit- 
ants of  heaven  I  could  not  be  sure,  because 
the  divine  presence  began  to  be  less  clear  to 
our  vision.  A  glorious  haze  enveloped  him. 
The  outlines  of  his  form  grew  gradually  in- 
distinct, until  the  sight  of  his  presence  was 
hidden  in  the  cloud. 

"In  ecstatic  adoration  our  faces  were  still 
turned  heavenward  when  we  witnessed  an- 
other wonder!  Two  bright  beings,  shining 
as  the  sun,  appeared  to  cleave  the  vapors  of 
the  cloud.  At  first  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen  except,  as  it  were,  two  brilliant  globes 
of  light.  In  a  few  moments  the  brilliancy 
grew  stronger  and  from  the  cloud  emerged 
two  angelic  forms.  Slowly  and  with  infinite 
grace  they  descended  to  the  earth  where  we 
were.  We  were  excited,  as  is  natural,  with 
all  these  marvels.  We  were  also  filled  with 
the  most  consoling  joy.  Their  appearance 
and  message  was  a  confirmation  that  we  had 
not  been  under  some  illusion  in  what  we  had 
witnessed. 

'Ye  men  of  Galilee,  why  stand  ye  looking 
up  into  heaven?    This  Jesus,  who  is  taken 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       257 

up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  as 
ye  have  seen  him  going  into  heaven/ 

"We  needed  not  the  angels'  confirmation 
of  what  we  ourselves  had  witnessed,  yet  the 
message  filled  our  hearts  with  a  superabun- 
dant flood  of  happiness. 

"Amid  our  exultation  of  heart  and  our 
exaltation  of  mind,  amid  all  the  sweet  conso- 
lation there  was  present  one  touch  of  pathos. 
Perhaps  it  accentuated  our  happiness,  as  a 
discord  brings  into  greater  prominence  the 
harmony  of  music.  The  Lord  gave  us  the 
last  proof  of  his  divinity  by  ascending  into 
heaven  by  his  own  power,  but  he  left  his 
holy  mother  behind. 

"None  but  those  who  saw  her  face  at  that 
supreme  moment  will  ever  fully  realize  what 
parting  means!  What  longing  was  shown 
on  her  face!  While  bowing  with  absolute 
submission  and  with  all  the  powers  of  her 
soul,  yet  she  was  losing — her  son!  Her 
whole  soul  was  in  her  eyes  as  she  followed 
his  receding  figure.  At  the  close  of  this  most 
tremendous  scene  in  the  world's  history, 
Mary  appeared  overwrought  and  almost  ex- 
hausted by  the  excess  of  her  varied  and  con- 
tending emotions.  John,  to  whose  care  she 
had  been  confided,  led  her  away  to  his 
home." 

"Having  come  into  the  world,  why  did 
Christ  leave  it?"  asked  Andros,  who  with 
breathless  eagerness  drank  in  the  wonderful 
story.  In  the  light  of  the  moon  Elymas 

17 


258       THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR 

could  see  the  young  man's  eyes  flash  in  his 
excitement,  and  his  face  flush,  and  hear  his 
breathing  shorten  as  the  story  proceeded. 

"For  this  reason,  for  one,  my  son,"  replied 
Elymas,  "that  his  followers  should  hence- 
forth have  the  merit  of  faith.  It  is  our  duty 
as  followers  of  Christ  to  conform  our  lives 
to  the  teachings  he  has  given  us.  Small 
merit  would  attach  itself  to  us  for  our  obe- 
dience if  we  were  always  under  the  spell  of 
his  wonderful  presence.  Henceforth  the 
just  must  live  by  faith,  and  faith  is  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen." 

The  relation  of  Mary's  part  in  the  ascen- 
sion had  deeply  interested  Andros. 

"Oh!  could  I  but  once  see  her!"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  great  fervor,  "could  I  but  once 
look  upon  her  who  bore  the  Saviour,  ho\ 
privileged  I  should  be!  Methinks  I  shall 
take  the  journey  to  Jerusalem  to  see  this 
holiest  one." 

"Thou  hast  no  need.  Rememberest  thou 
the  excitement,  and  the  number  of  visitors 
coming  and  going  to  my  house  not  long  ago  ? 
I  promised  I  would  explain.  This  commo- 
tion was  caused  by  information  having 
reached  the  believers  in  Christ  who  dwell  in 
Ephesus  that  the  Apostle  John  and  the 
Mother  of  Christ  are  about  to  come  to  this 
city.  Persecutions  against  his  followers 
have  begun  in  Judea.  Following  their  di- 
vine Master's  instructions  concerning  those 


THE  GLORY  OF  THABOR       259 

who  persecute  us,  they  leave,  at  least  for  a 
time,  their  ungrateful  land." 

"And  shall  I — I — be  privileged  to  look 
upon  this  wonderful  one!  I  had  almost  said, 
this  goddess,  but  I  know  that  is  false." 

"Yes,  that  is  false,"  said  Elymas.  "Al- 
though her  son  was  divine  she  is  not  divine, 
yet  she  is  the  one  creature  nearest  to  the 
Godhead,  the  most  exalted  of  created  beings, 
for  she  hath  given  to  the  world  a  Saviour." 

"I  can  easily  understand  that  she  is  the 
greatest  of  created  beings  in  the  universe. 
Veneration  for  her  is  the  most  logical  result 
of  her  high  dignity." 

"When  thou  hast  been  admitted  to  the 
sacred  mysteries  thou  shalt  see  her." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
WHERE  LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

The  instruction  of  Andros  proceeded  sat- 
isfactorily. In  a  short  time  he  was  regener- 
ated in  the  waters  of  baptism.  He  found 
that  the  deeper  he  investigated  into  the 
truths  of  the  religion  of  Christ  the  fuller  be- 
came the  satisfaction  of  his  enquiring  mind. 
He  saw  that  he  had  embraced  no  shadowy 
belief,  vaguely  founded  on  fable,  but  a  com- 
pact and  coherent  system  of  doctrine  and 
precept,  adapted  to  satisfy  the  enquiries  of 
the  loftiest  intellect  and  the  simplest  mind. 
The  mode  of  life  it  prescribed  and  which  was 
exemplified  by  all  the  believers  in  the  city — 
and  Andros  was  astonished  when  he  learned 
of  their  numbers — accorded  with  his  ideas 
of  what  a  man  should  be  and  do.  The  life  of 
the  followers  of  Diana  had  displeased  and 
disgusted  him  by  the  licentiousness  practiced 
in  the  name  of  religion.  His  aspirations  for 
a  purer  worship  found  their  fruition  in  the 
religion  in  which  he  was  daily  being  more 
fully  instructed. 

The  joy  of  heart  which  he  experienced 
subsequent  to  his  baptism  was  very  great. 
One  effect  of  this  was  his  desire  to  go  out 
into  the  streets,  the  agora,  the  circus,  preach- 

260 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH         261 

ing  the  new  doctrine.  This  fervor  was  to 
be  used  in  after  years  to  good  effect,  but  be- 
ing at  present  only  the  untried  and  probably 
injudicious  zeal  of  the  neophyte,  he  was 
restrained  by  Abdiel  and  his  friend  Elymas. 

His  consolation  and  satisfaction  on  being 
admitted  for  the  first  time  to  the  Christian 
mysteries,  was  proportionate  to  the  awe 
which  fell  upon  him  when  he  realized  their 
tremendous  import.  It  was  then  that  he 
learned  the  meaning  of  those  mysterious 
sounds  he  first  heard  when  he  fled  to  the 
house  of  Elymas  for  safety.  He  had  heard 
many  voices  repeating  psalms  and  prayers. 

When,  at  last,  he  was  permitted  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  mysteries,  which  was  not  for 
some  time  after  he  had  been  allowed  to  be 
present,  his  exultation  was  so  great  that  he 
thought  there  was  nothing  lacking  to  him  to 
make  him  completely  happy  but  to  die  at 
once. 

The  greater  the  ardor  with  which  he  fol- 
lowed the  teachings  of  Abdiel,  who  went 
from  one  little  community  to  another,  in- 
structing, baptising,  and  offering  the  sacred 
mysteries  for  the  ever-increasing  number  of 
converts,  the  less  did  his  own  personal  dis- 
appointment with  regard  to  his  rejection  by 
Lydda  appear.  At  times  of  peculiarly  great 
fervor  he  forgot  her  altogether,  but  when- 
ever this  fervor  cooled,  or  the  tension  of 
mind  relaxed  from  the  consideration  of  su- 
pernatural things,  his  love  for  her  and  the 


262         LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

grief  at  the  loss  of  her  came  back  with 
redoubled  force. 

At  length,  after  many  days  of  delay,  Da- 
vid, the  son  of  Elymas,  was  sent  to  the  house 
of  Andros  to  inform  him  that  the  two  great 
personages  had  arrived  in  Ephesus.  David 
did  not  know  where  they  were  sojourning. 
He  was  sent  to  invite  Andros  to  his  father's 
house  on  the  following  day  that  he  might 
meet  John,  the  apostle  whom  Jesus  loved. 

"But  the  great  Mary!  Am  I  not  to  see 
her  as  well?"  asked  Andros  in  great  excite- 
ment. 

"My  father  hath  not  told  me.  My  mes- 
sage was  to  thee  that  John  would  come  to 
our  house.  It  may  be  that  we  are  not  holy 
enough  to  be  admitted  to  the  presence  of 
the  mother  of  Christ!" 

"Tell  thy  good  father  that  I  will  be  with 
him  at  the  sixth  hour,  in  time  for  the  noon- 
day meal." 

Andros,  although  his  expectations  ran 
high,  and  his  fervor  was  kindled  at  the  pros- 
pect of  seeing  one  who  was  so  long  in  the 
company  of  the  Lord,  was  unprepared  to  see 
John  as  he  was  at  this  stage  of  his  apostolic 
career. 

He  appeared  to  Andros  to  be  a  tall,  mus- 
cular man,  with  broad  shoulders  and  long 
arms.  He  stood  perfectly  erect  with  an 
almost  military  precision  in  all  his  move- 
ments. When  Andros  arrived  he  caught 
his  first  glimpse  of  John,  who  was  at  that 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH         263 

moment  walking  in  the  garden.  By  the  way 
that  he  planted  his  feet  firmly  on  the  ground, 
Andros  at  once  knew  that  he  was  a  man  of 
more  than  ordinary  decision  of  character. 
When  the  new  convert  spoke  with  him  he 
observed  the  characteristic  of  incisiveness 
and  clearness  of  thought,  for  the  words  were 
clean-cut  and  sharp,  although  not  brusque. 

Andros  could  not  but  recall  the  descrip- 
tion which  Abdiel  had  given  of  the  personal 
appearance  of  Christ,  whom  the  latter  had 
seen  at  Nairn.  He  compared  the  picture  of 
his  memory  with  the  man  before  him.  He 
found  there  was  a  strong  resemblance. 
John's  hair  was  long  and  of  the  same  golden- 
brown  as  Christ's.  His  eyes  were  dark-blue 
and  full  of  love.  The  nose  was  straight,  and 
the  lips  were  rather  thin,  but  red  with  the 
color  of  health.  His  face  was  not  white.  It 
was  much  tanned,  as  if  frequently  exposed 
to  sun  and  wind  in  long  journeys. 

Although  it  was  now  many  years  since  he 
relinquished  the  rough  occupation  of  a  fish- 
erman on  the  sea  of  Galilee  at  the  call  of  his 
Master,  yet  his  hands  still  bore  the  marks  of 
hard  toil  and  were  strong  and  vigorous,  not- 
withstanding the  fingers  were  long  and  ta- 
pering and  the  wrists  small.  The  lip  and  the 
prominent  part  of  the  chin  were  covered  with 
light  brown  hair  of  short  growth  which  did 
not  hide  the  manly  contour  of  the  jaw.  The 
hair,  slightly  wavy,  enhanced  the  charm  of 
a  handsome  face  which  was  manly  and  sin- 


264         LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

cere.  The  eyebrows  were  a  shade  or  two 
darker  than  the  hair  on  the  lip.  In  this  first 
short  visit  to  the  city  of  Diana,  where  after- 
wards he  was  to  spend  so  many  years  of  his 
life,  the  apostle  appeared  to  be  in  the  full 
prime  of  vigorous  manhood. 

While  the  features,  individually,  were 
nothing  remarkable,  the  face  was  very  pleas- 
ing. The  countenance  indicated  surpassing 
moral  strength.  In  the  glance  of  the  eye 
one  saw  a  restrained  fire — a  moral  power 
which  could  conquer  a  world.  Gentleness 
and  extraordinary  meekness  were  untinged 
with  the  slightest  weakness  of  character.  At 
once  the  observer  realized  that  John  had  a 
profound  insight  into  character,  coupled  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  mother  for  the  erring. 
Decision  and  strength  were  in  the  eagle 
glance  of  the  eye.  The  sensitive  quivering 
of  the  lips,  responsive  to  any  passing  emo- 
tion, showed  also  that  if  the  occasion  re- 
quired he  could  be  not  only  the  man  of  iron, 
but  the  gentle,  sympathetic  friend  to  the 
wavering  and  the  timid. 

Above  all  this  there  was  a  dignity  which 
set  him  apart  from  the  rest  of  men.  It  en- 
compassed him,  and  no  one  of  the  followers 
of  his  Master  was  ever  known  to  intrench 
upon  it.  At  the  Last  Supper  he  reclined 
upon  the  Saviour's  breast,  and  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross  it  had  been  given  to  him  to  care 
for  the  Mother  of  Christ.  These  two  tre- 
mendous facts  set  him  apart  from  the  rest 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH         265 

of  believers.  This  companionship  left  an  in- 
delible mark  upon  him  which  the  rest  of  the 
world  recognized  and  honored. 

The  new  convert  had  often  heard  from 
his  friends  such  marvelous  reports  concern- 
ing John  that  he  sometimes  feared  that  his 
expectations  had  been  placed  too  high.  He 
remembered  as  one  of  the  bitterest  moments 
of  his  life  the  disillusion  and  the  shattering 
of  an  ideal,  as  well  as  the  disgust  which  fol- 
lowed, when  for  the  first  time  he  saw  the 
great  statue  of  Diana.  He  was  learning, 
with  advancing  years,  that  the  reality  often 
falls  short  of  a  previous  concept.  He  was 
somewhat  afraid  of  a  repetition  of  former 
experience  when  he  should  meet  the  apostle. 
His  expectations,  however,  were  not  disap- 
pointed. 

Although  John  said  or  did  but  little  to 
Andros  except  receive  him  with  a  winning 
grace,  there  was  something  about  him  which 
filled  Andros  with  a  reverential  love,  which 
never  cooled  in  after  years.  The  apostle's 
influence  over  the  little  company  of  believers 
in  the  city  was  profound,  and  Andros  was 
soon  as  completely  under  its  power  as  the 
rest.  His  whole  life  was  to  feel  its  effect, 
for  when  he  whom  Jesus  loved  returned 
again  to  Ephesus  in  after  years,  the  master- 
shipman  was  one  of  his  most  valued  assist- 
ants in  the  spreading  of  the  faith. 

A  few  days  later  Andros  was  again  in 
his  company.  At  this  time  he  was  suffering 


266          LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

from  one  of  those  mental  reactions  to  whicE 
high-strung  natures  are  sometimes  subject. 
The  ecstatically  joyous  condition  of  the  soul 
had  somewhat  subsided.  He  was  now  view- 
ing the  long  vista  of  his  future  years  in  a 
ra,ther  gloomy  mood. 

Andros  was  wealthy  and  used  to  luxury, 
at  least  in  a  moderate  way.  His  house  was 
sumptuously  furnished.  He  had  never 
known  the  want  of  money,  nor  the  absence 
of  the  niceties  of  life  such  as  money  can 
purchase.  Would  he  be  required  to  dis- 
tribute his  wealth  among  the  poor  of  the 
little  Christian  communities?  Could  he  be 
content  to  live  even  the  simple,  honest,  rus- 
tic life  of  Elymas?  The  prospect  appeared 
to  him  a  gloomy  one,  although  no  word  on 
this  subject  had  been  said  to  him  by  his 
friends.  It  was  a  phase  of  mental  condition 
not  uncommon  to  those  in  his  position,  al- 
though it  was  new  to  him  and  therefore 
harassing. 

Suddenly  his  memory  arrayed  itself 
against  him.  There  flashed  through  his 
mind  pictures  of  the  color  and  beauty  and 
brilliancy  of  some  of  the  functions  of  the 
worship  of  Diana.  The  contrast  of  these 
and  the  present  quiet  and  sombre  worship 
of  the  Christians  was  startling.  The  ritual 
processions  in  their  most  ideal  forms,  as 
youth  sees  them,  the  flower  sacrifices  of  the 
Artemision,  came  vividly  before  him  in  all 
their  alluring  brilliancy  and  fascination. 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH         267 

How  beautiful  everything  now  appeared 
which  he  had  renounced  forever !  Were  light 
and  beauty,  grace  of  form  and  nature's 
choicest  gifts  to  be  renounced  forever? 

To  add  to  his  annoyance,  Abdiel  and 
Elymas,  for  some  reason  unknown  to  him, 
delayed  in  complying  with  his  request  to  be 
taken  to  see  the  mother  of  Christ.  They 
vouchsafed  him  no  explanation  of  their  re- 
fusal to  comply  with  his  often  expressed  de- 
sire, which,  after  having  heard  so  much 
about  this  holy  and  venerable  person,  was  a 
most  natural  one.  He  would  have  ventured 
to  make  the  visit  alone,  but  they  had  care- 
fully hidden  from  him  the  location  of  her 
dwelling-place. 

"I  will  see  the  great  John,"  he  said  with 
sudden  resolve.  "He  will  surely  take  me  to 
the  mother  of  the  Saviour." 

The  apostle,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  young 
man's  gloomy  countenance,  surmised  the 
cause  of  his  depression. 

"Thou  art  discouraged,  my  son.  What 
thou  hast  undertaken  appears  too  hard  and 
too  great — now?" 

Andros  nodded  a  gloomy  assent. 

"Make  no  change  whilst  thou  art  in  this 
spirit,"  continued  John.  "This  is  not  the 
time.  The  sunshine  of  thy  mind  will  soon 
come  again.  Now  thou  canst  see  but  one 
step  in  the  mist  of  the  mountain  side.  Then 
thou  wilt  laugh  at  what  now  appears  hard 
and  insurmountable." 


268         LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

Encouraged  by  John's  kindly,  sympathetic 
manner,  Andros  told  him  how  gloomy  ap- 
peared the  future.  "My  mode  of  life,"  he 
said,  after  he  had  manifested  all  his  difficul- 
ties, "is  different  from  that  of  these  good 
people.  Must  I,  while  adopting  their  faith 
in  Christ,  adopt  also  their  manner  of  living?" 

"That  is  not  necessary,  if  thou  findest  re- 
pugnance therein,  although  it  is  the  more 
perfect  way.  Christ  can  be  served  in  every 
honest  state  of  life.  Know  ye  that  already 
there  are  believers  in  the  very  household  of 
the  Emperor?" 

Andros  thanked  him.  Already  the  clouds 
of  depression  seemed  to  be  rolling  away. 

"In  the  beginning,"  continued  the  apostle, 
"all  believers  sold  their  goods  and  brought 
the  price  to  the  feet  of  Peter,  and  lived  the 
common  life.  Already  it  is  found  that,  by 
the  increase  in  numbers  of  those  who  follow 
the  God-man,  this  method  of  living  is  not 
available  for  all.  Thou  seest  that  thy  friend 
Elymas  liveth  with  his  family  only.  There 
are,  too,  many  believers  who  are  living  in 
their  own  houses,  or  as  servants  to  pagans." 

"I  thank  thee,  sir.  For  the  present  I  do 
not  desire  to  relinquish  my  properties." 

"See  that  thou  live  not  above  thy  station 
in  luxurious  extravagance  and  thou  canst  be 
happy,  provided  thou  rememberest  thine 
obligations  toward  the  necessitous.  From 
what  I  know  of  thee  I  am  sure  thou  couldst 
not  be  happy  if  thou  wert  aware  that  some 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH          269 

of  thy  brethren  in  the  faith  were  wanting 
bread." 

"Indeed  I  could  not,  good  sir.  I  will  send 
abundant  alms  to  him  whom  thou  dost  ap- 
point to  receive  and  distribute  it." 

"Thou  shalt  be  blessed  in  so  doing.  Yet 
another  thing  is  clouding  thy  mind.  I  see 
thou  art  partially  blinded  by  the  glitter  and 
glamour  of  the  sensuous-dominating  wor- 
ship of  this  city,  where  her  genius  and  her  art 
are  all-pervading.  I  grant  thee  that  Diana  is 
known  and  worshipped  under  some  form  or 
other  in  every  part  of  the  world.  But  I,  John, 
tell  thee  with  the  knowledge  of  prophecy 
that  this  worship  shall  pass  away  so  that 
there  shall  not  remain  a  vestige  of  it." 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  Andros. 

"With  God  all  things  are  possible.  Thou 
art  half  ashamed  of  our  little,  humble  church 
now  with  its  few  poor  followers  and  humble 
beginnings,  but  I  tell  thee,  Andros,  that  this 
church  shall  last  to  the  end  of  time.  It  shall 
spread  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth. 
In  future  years  the  world  shall  have  or  know 
nothing  greater,  nothing  grander.  The  gor- 
geousness  of  its  ceremonial,  in  the  ages  to 
come,  shall  surpass  the  wildest  flights  of  the 
poet's  fancy.  The  nations  of  the  earth  shall 
bow  before  her,  and  kings  shall  be  honored 
if  she  accept  their  gifts.  Many  kings,  in  the 
course  of  ages,  shall  lay  their  crowns  at  the 
feet  of  Peter.  She  shall  say  with  truth,  'By 
me  kings  rule  and  legislators  decree  what  is 


270         LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

just.'  Her  enemies  shall  bow  their  necks  be- 
fore her,  and  their  impotent  rage  she  shall 
laugh  to  scorn.  Three  kings  bowed  in  lowly 
adoration  at  the  birth  of  Christ,  and  kings 
shall  ever  be  found  to  worship  in  her  temples. 

"Thou  thinkest  that  the  temple  of  Diana 
is  the  farthest  limit  of  man's  creative  skill. 
In  many  lands  fanes  shall  arise  that  shall  so 
far  exceed  it  that  by  comparison  it  shall  be 
but  as  a  fisherman's  hut  by  the  riverside. 
The  whole  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  mag- 
nificence of  the  temples  of  the  God  of  hosts. 
Kings  shall  bring  their  gold,  and  princes 
their  treasures  for  their  adorning.  These 
temples  shall  be  grand  and  glorious,  for  in 
them  forever  shall  dwell  the  Lord  of  the 
whole  earth.  People  shall  enter  their  courts 
with  fear  and  trembling,  for  the  Lord  God 
Almighty  shall  dwell  therein. 

"From  the  gates  of  his  temples  shall  flow 
healing  for  the  children  of  men.  From 
thence  shall  come  the  purification  of  the  na- 
tions, and  all  shall  call  upon  His  name.  Great 
is  the  God  of  our  fathers  who  hath  estab- 
lished his  law  in  our  hearts.  His  reign  shall 
be  the  reign  of  love,  and  his  church  shall  be 
the  bride  of  the  eternal  ages,  adorned  with 
the  merits  of  her  founder  and  the  holiness  of 
her  children.  She  is  the  queen  of  time.  Her 
reign  shall  never  cease.  Canst  thou  not,  O 
Andros,  see  the  wondrous  vision?  Art  thou 
not  proud  to  be  incorporated  into  such  a 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH         271 

body  that  shall  perpetuate  the  reign  of 
Christ  in  the  souls  of  men  forever?" 

"Yes!  yes!  I  see  her  glorious  destiny. 
She  shall  become  the  mistress  of  the  world!" 
exclaimed  the  young  convert,  all  his  gloom 
now  dissipated  by  this  unfolding  of  the  fu- 
ture glories  of  the  church.  He  had  caught  a 
spark  of  the  enthusiasm  which  was  so  char- 
acteristic of  John.  He  would  not,  however, 
be  diverted  from  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"Tell  me,  O  friend  of  Christ,  when  wilt 
thou  permit  that  I  see  with  mine  own  eyes 
the  great  Mother?" 

John  recognized  the  yearning  tone  of  his 
voice,  and  a  chord  of  sympathy  in  his  own 
breast  was  touched. 

"Thou  and  I  and  David  and  Abdiel  shall 
go  at  once.  There  hath  been  some  necessary 
delay.  Thou  wilt  understand  ere  long." 

The  apostle  looked  significantly  at  David. 
They  both  smiled  in  the  knowledge  of  a  mu- 
tual secret.  Andros  was  all  eagerness  to 
start  at  once.  The  little  company  crossed 
the  city  to  the  north  at  a  rapid  pace  until 
they  came  to  the  banks  of  the  river  Caystrus, 
about  half  a  mile  east  of  the  mansion  of 
Mellanides. 

Having  crossed  the  river,  Andros  walked 
as  in  a  dream  through  the  beautiful  woods, 
until  they  came  to  a  large  stone  house,  where 
they  were  at  once  admitted.  After  a  short 
rest,  during  which  refreshments  were  set  be- 


272         LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

fore  them,  a  matronly  woman  appeared  and 
greeted  the  young  Ephesian  Christian. 

"Thou  art  not  entirely  unknown  here," 
she  said;  "the  daughter  of  Mellanides  hath 
often  spoken  of  thee." 

"Art  thou  the  good  woman  who  helped 
her  when  she  met  with  the  accident  in  the 
forest?" 

"That  was  my  good  fortune,  young  sir." 

"Let  me  add  my  gratitude  to  hers  for  thy 
kindly  deed.  Would  that  she  had  come  to 
thee  as  often  as  I  have  gone  to  Elymas,  and 
with  the  same  happy  result.  Thou  knowest 
that  I  have  been  admitted  to,  and  partaken 
of,  the  Christian  mysteries?" 

"So  Abdiel  hath  informed  us,  and  he  hath 
told  us  likewise  of  thy  rejection  by  the  one 
thou  lovest." 

"Ah!"  sighed  Andros,  "happy  as  I  am  in 
my  new  faith,  I  fear  me  I  have  lost  her." 

"Thou  wouldst  not  marry  a  worshipper  of 
Diana?"  asked  the  woman. 

"How  would  it  be  possible?  How  could 
there  be  union  of  heart,  or  fullest  confidence? 
It  were  impossible." 

"Thou  didst  tell  her  of  thy  change  of 
faith?" 

"Nay,  I  tried  to  win  her  with  little  thought 
of  these  things.  When  she  rejected  me,  we 
were  both  of  the  same  belief." 

"Art  thou  sure  of  that,  Andros?" 

"Yes,  although  to  be  more  exact,  I  was 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH          273 

beginning  then  to  be  regarded  as  a  neophyte 
by  the  Christian  family  of  Elymas." 

A  significant  smile,  which  was  unseen  by 
Andros,  passed  between  the  elderly  woman 
and  those  who  were  listening. 

"Wouldst  thou  not  wish  to  see  her  again?" 

"Ah !  that  would  I,  but  I  fear  the  meeting 
would  result  in  nothing,  and  perhaps  be  pain- 
ful to  both.  God  hath  been  so  good  to  me 
that  I  must  be  content  with  the  great  gifts 
he  hath  already  given." 

"What  thinkest  thou,  Andros,"  asked  Ab- 
diel,  the  priest,  "is  the  greatest  gift  God  hath 
bestowed  upon  thee?" 

"The  knowledge  of  himself — the  true 
God,"  answered  Andros  emphatically. 

"And  wouldst  thou  be  content  with  this 
and  be  willing  to  relinquish  the  chance  of 
gaining  Lydda  as  thy  wife?" 

"I  would  do  anything  compatible  with  my 
newly  found  faith  to  win  her,  but  alas!  I 
fear  that  will  never  be." 

Again  there  were  significant  glances  inter- 
changed among  the  little  group  surrounding 
the  young  Ephesian. 

"Those  of  different  belief  could  not  marry, 
you  mean?"  asked  Abdiel. 

"I  do  not  say  that,"  replied  Andros,  "but 
I  do  not  think  I  could  marry  an  unbeliever 
even  if  she  were — were  Lydda." 

The  thought  was  painful  to  Andros,  and 
he  sighed  deeply. 

"Oh!"  he  continued,  "if  she  could  be  but 


274         LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

brought  into  the  Christian  fold!  She  hath 
admitted  that  she  loves  me,  but  for  some 
mysterious  and  unexplained  reason  she  de- 
clared that  she  could  not  marry  me.  She 
refused  me  as  a  pagan.  Would  she,  do  you 
think,  do  the  same  if  she  knew  that  I  was  a 
Christian  and  became  one  herself?" 

The  elderly  matron  agreed  with  Abdicl 
when  he  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  there 
was  a  probability  of  his  being  accepted 
should  Lydda  accept  the  faith  and  become  a 
Christian. 

"Then  she  must!  she  shall!"  he  exclaimed 
impetuously.  "I  will  devote  my  life  to  this 
work.  I  will  give  all  my  wealth  to  this  end. 
I  am  sure  she  will  put  no  obstacles  in  the 
way  to  prevent  the  light  of  faith  penetrating 
her  heart  and  illuminating  her  intellect.  Oh ! 
Abdiel  my  friend,  priest  of  the  one  true  God, 
wilt  thou  not  instruct  her?  I  will  lend  my 
aid.  I  will  argue  with  her.  She  will  listen. 
I  will  teach  her  all  I  know.  I  will  go  at  once. 
The  residence  of  Mellanides  is  not  many 
paces  from  here." 

He  made  as  if  he  would  put  into  imme- 
diate execution  his  newly  formed  project. 

"Patience,  my  son,"  said  Abdiel,  smiling 
at  the  impetuosity  of  the  lover.  He  recog- 
nized the  very  evident  mundane  foundation 
of  the  zeal  of  the  young  Christian. 

"Would  thy  motive,  Andros,  be  entirely 
single?"  he  asked. 

"I — I   thought  not  of  the  motive,  good 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH          275 

Abdiel.  If  we  succeed  in  converting  her  and 
I  gain  her,  is  not  that  motive  enough?" 

Abdiel  laughed  quietly  at  the  eagerness  of 
the  lover.  He  regarded  him  affectionately 
for  some  time,  for  he,  in  common  with  all  the 
Christians  of  Ephesus,  had  the  kindliest 
feelings  towards  the  bright  young  Ephesian. 

"Scarcely  a  sufficient  motive  for  the  end  to 
be  attained,  my  son,"  he  said.  "Thou  hast 
no  need,  however,  to  go  to  the  house  of  Mel- 
lanides.  It  may  be  thou  wilt  soon  meet  with 
Lydda,  for  she  is  now  under  this  roof,  and 
is  with  the  young  maidens  in  another  part 
of  the  house." 

"Lydda  here!  So  near!  Let  me  go  to 
her."' 

Turning  to  the  matron,  he  said: 

"Thou  hast  told  me  that  she  often  cometh 
here.  I  am  fortunate.  Take  me  to  her,  I 
pray  thee." 

Abdiel  and  the  elderly  woman,  both  still 
amused  at  his  impetuosity,  conducted  him 
the  length  of  a  long  corridor  to  the  other 
end  of  the  large  mansion.  On  entering  a 
room,  he  saw  six  or  seven  young  women  en- 
gaged in  various  occupations  of  spinning 
flax,  or  in  needlework. 

The  matron  signalled  to  one  of  these,  who 
immediately  left  the  room  and  returned  a 
moment  later,  bringing  forward  an  ex- 
tremely nervous  but  stately  young  woman 
clad  in  a  white  robe.  She  was  nervously 
fingering  a  little  silver  fish  which  was  at- 


276          LOVE  MEETS  FAITH 

tached  to  a  light  chain  she  wore  around  her 
neck. 

Andros  stood  for  a  moment  as  one  in  a 
daze.  The  woman  he  loved  wearing  the  fish 
— the  emblem  of  Christianity!  Could  it  be 
that  his  Lydda  was — but  no ;  such  happiness 
could  not  be  for  him.  He  had  merited  no 
such  bliss.  She  was  still  in  the  darkness  of 
paganism  and  idolatry.  And  yet  that  em- 
blem! What  did  it  all  mean? 

"Lydda!  my  Lydda!" 

Not  sure  as  yet  whether  his  senses  were 
not  deceiving  him,  he  strode  rapidly  over  to 
where  she  was  standing. 

"Thou!  thou  a  Christian!" 

A  faint  blush  overspread  her  countenance 
as,  not  trusting  herself  to  speak,  she  nodded 
assent. 

"Oh!  then  my  joy  is  complete!  thou  lovest 
me;  thou  hast  said  it.  My  love!  my  love!" 

"And  mine,"  she  answered.  "I  refused 
thee,  Andros,  believing  thou  wert  still  a  pa- 
gan. Didst  thou  not  know  that  I  gave  up 
the  worship  of  Diana  these  many  months?" 

"I  knew  it  not.  Tell  me  how  it  all  came 
about,"  said  Andros  ecstatically,  and  the 
daughter  of  Mellanides  answered  simply: 

"The  great  Mother  is  here." 

"Come,  Andros,"  said  John,  who  entered 
at  that  moment,  "she  waits  for  thee." 

The  great  apostle  led  the  young  convert 
into  the  presence  of  the  mother  of  Christ, 
and  left  him  alone  with  her. 


LOVE  MEETS  FAITH         277 

It  was  then  that  Andros  learned  from  the 
lips  of  the  Mother  of  the  Church  those 
deeper  mysteries  of  faith  which  made  him  a 
tower  of  strength  to  others,  and  gave  him 
the  courage  in  the  time  to  come  to  devote 
his  wealth,  and  eventually  to  give  his  life  for 
the  truth  of  the  faith  he  had  received. 

As  the  great  apostle  let  fall  the  arras  he 
saw  the  young  man  drop  upon  his  knees, 
overpowered  by  the  majesty  and  supernal 
holiness  of  her  whom  brush  of  artist,  inspi- 
ration of  poet,  or  pen  of  writer  has  never  yet 
succeeded  in  adequately  portraying. 


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